Nightmares Of Reality
by gothgirlstrikesagain
Summary: As I remember my life, it unravels. No order, just memories of my life appear before my eyes. Some happy, most painful, a few enchanting. I'm like a curse, who ever I get close to they suffer, but he has already suffered, what harm could I do? We both need fixing, we both need to remember who we are. Maybe, one day, we can be accepted again...we could be heroes.
1. Chapter 1

**I had this little idea in my head for ages. This isn't a story as such, more like a series of one-shots over my OCs life, but told not in order (I hope this doesn't get confusing) basically I see this story as a mix of beyond: two souls, nightmare house 2 and the avengers. But it mostly consists of the avengers so I placed it in the avengers will be short chapters but I will try to upload often as its easier without having to use a continuos story line.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_made a wrong turn, once or twice,_

_dug my way out, blood and fire,_

_bad decisions, that's alright,_

_welcome to my, silly life,_

_P!nk ~ Fuckin perfect_

* * *

Introduction - The Fallen

Patient file no.26

Name: Williams, Zoey

Age: 13

_General description: long brown hair, green eyes, slightly tall for age, intelligent, undernourishing thin._

_personality: defiant towards treatment, extremely hostile when under serum, incoherent when asked certain questions, danger to others._

Mother: Tuesday 

Father: unknown

Next of kin: none

Wednesday 3rd November:

Recent tests reveal that Williams seems to be more immune to the serum, however the longer she is subjected to these tests, the less stable her condition becomes. I have come to the conclusion that she is having hallucinations whole under the effects of the serum. Though I regret still putting the patient under these conditions, but for the serum to progress, I have no other choice.

Tuesday 24th April:

No one will stop me, this serum will work if not the machine will defiantly work. It has to, it has to work. So far, Williams has had more hallucinations, more nightmares that she refuses to confine in. She's seems to believe they are real, her mind believing that these monsters are able to interact with her, hurt her, it is quite fascinating to watch her struggle in this house of nightmares that she draws over and over again. One day, I will harness this gift she has, use it, make it, mould it into what I wish. She is the key that unlocks the mystery of this alien weaponry, this **tesseract. **

* * *

The screams that I produced were far from human, my bloodied nails scratching hopelessly against the arm of the metal chair that I had been strapped to. These straps suffocating my waist, and cutting off the circulation in my wrists. The needle sinking deeper and deeper into my thin layer of skin, the normal pink pigment a pale white. Shaking uncontrollably, I felt painful tears forming in my eyes, obscuring my vision, my eyes only seeing the familiar grey tattered lab coat draped over my torturers' body.

He doesn't even look me in the eye, though if he did, I know I would see the psychopathic sparkle in them. His brown hair long and greasy, his glasses hanging off his long nose at a slight angle, the beard, brown filled with remittance of rotten food and other grotesque objects. When he removes the needle, the blue liquid that was once inside it is gone, he laughs, the laugh forever haunting me until the day I die.

"Good...very good." He whispers to himself, before marching over to his computer type equipment. As he does this, I whimper softly, my fear radiating off me like a boiled kettle. And then I feel it, the sensation of a cold hand pressing gently on my own trembling one. I know who it is, but look all the same. She is there. Long black hair swirling like snakes above her shoulders, the same white patient garment splattered with dark blood. The eyes, the eyes the blackest of any night, staring deep into my shattered soul.

_Emily...please make it stop. Please let me be with you...please make the pain stop._ I plead to her, finding them unanswered. She just stares at me, unable to talk, as her mouth is stitched up like a doll's. I know she can hear me, she always hears me, but she does nothing like always, except hold my hand. I feel slightly calmer, just having her near me, breathing me, makes the fear much less. And then, she's gone...unable to be near me for long, only pockets at a time.

He turns to face me, fear reflecting from his glasses.

He knows.

The sting of having my hair yanked backwards strikes me, his claw-like hands threatening to rip it out. When he is this close, I can smell his powerful body odour, and feel him shaking like a crazed man.

"She was here wasn't she?" He asks quickly, his pupils dilating. "Tell me, she was here, I know she was, shewashere!" He screeches at me, I simply stare hatefully at him.

"Burn in hell..." I whisper at him, the loathing clearly heard in the sentence. He jolts my head forward as an act of defiance, him relishing the power he has over me. My headaches from the impact, a pain I suffer often from this monster. He clicks a few buttons on his computer, and then it slowly is tilted down from the ceiling above. The machine, it's blue glow astonishingly hypnotising, the intermix shapes of different metals makes its appearance one that would be seen in a school science fair. I stare at it, my nails once again digging into the fabric over the arm of the chair, waiting for it, the humming. Not two seconds later, it starts, the blue ray perfectly in line with the centre of my forehead. And then it fires, the blue crystals type light hitting my brain within milliseconds, the humming, the ongoing tingling sensation that quickly increases into a sharp sting, only increasing ever more.

_**I know longer see the grey walls of the lab, with its broken walls tiles and sharps objects of scientific torture, the darkness that is only illuminated by the glow of the machine. No more do I see these familiar things, now, I'm thrown into the blue glow, twisting and turning with its motion as it tries to sink deeper into my brain. It does what it always does, reveals a scene of the worst kind. I see the rainbow road that I see all too often in these scenes, however shards of white are broken off of this road. Three mighty men over see the edge, two hanging on to one golden poll, while eldest looking wise man holds tightly to one. His golden locks and beard reveal a man who is in so much pain, so much betrayal to the man below him. The man in question, black tightly combed hair, bright green eyes so full of sadness and hope. He sees the wise man, his face lighting up so beautifully.**_

_**"I could have done it father! I could have done it, for you, for all of us!" He shouts, almost pleading for the wise man to see him more than just a monster, as his son.**_

_**"No Loki." Two words spoken so without bitterness or anger, but they still break the man below. His face one that shows nothing but hopelessness, betrayal, abandonment...lost. **_

_**I know that face, I know the look...I've worn it my whole short life.**_

_**He lets go, falling into the abyss with only the look on his face, the other man screaming no, almost sounding as sad as the man falling had looked. **_

_**No more...no more...no more, no more, nomorenomorenomore! **_

I force myself out of the scene, pushing the blue glow out of my mind, the pain of remembering agonising. All I can say is no more, I feel my mind shattering as the final push puts me back into the lab room, the machine exploding in front of me. I breath heavily, the impact of the sparks searing my skin, I struggle out of the straps, I stare at my hands feeling a tingle sensation. And I see blue, the blue glow in two perfect balls in my hands. I panic, my mind falling to pieces as I stare at the blue orbs.

"What's happening to me? What have you done to me?!" I scream, before keeling onto the floor, the adrenalin deteriorating from my body, the glow fading the weaker I feel.

"You beast, you ruined my machine! I had finally done it, finally manage to control the human brain, and you destroyed it! My life's work gone, because of you, monster!" Dr Romero shouted from somewhere close by, but I couldn't see him, so transfixed on the glow in my hands.

I only concentrated on him; when he had his boney fingers around my throat threatening to strangle me to death. But I couldn't care, all I could feel was the machine's power pumping through my veins, spreading into my whole body. His hands made short work of my thin neck, and soon I found my vision turning black.

Suddenly he screamed, the pressure being removed from my throat as he was flung across the room into the window directly opposite me, I had just enough coherence to watch as Emily walked up to him, a hand raised as an invisible force kept him against the window, the glass cracking under his weight. He stared at her with absolute fear, no longer believing she was one of my hallucinations, she was real. The realisation only lasted a few seconds as she slightly zipped towards him and dug her hand into his chest, the screams making my eardrums bleed. The squirting of blood sprayed onto her face as she gripped his heart, yanking it out of his body swiftly, making him look at it before she crushed it in between her fingers, loathing and no remorse on her face. He landed flat on the floor, crazed eyes glazed, no more damage could he inflict, no more.

Emily turned to me, eyes still black. But her mouth, the stitches unraveled in front of me, popping out of the disfigured skin. She smiled, perfect white teeth hidden behind the sewn lips.

"Thank you" she whispered, before vanishing into a pile of dust on the floor.

I was left alone, tears streaming down my face, my limbs shaking uncontrollably, my eyes showing no life, only insanity. The steady blue glow finally fading out of my hands. I felt nothing, I thought nothing, I spoke nothing.

* * *

After hours of planning, S.H.I.E.L.D finally made their way into the abandoned St Peters hospital for the mentally ill. Guns at the ready, agents out in front as they secured the area, making their way slowly deeper into the hospital from hell. What made it worse, dead rotting bodies and drag stains of red filled each ward, some even stood up, stumbling towards the agents like zombies. Even the wiser agents felt like vomiting, but they pushed forward, past each zombie, the wards, until they reached the bowels below.

Lights sparked, leaving most of the lab in darkness, meaning that the agents had to use torches to see where they were going. A single agent moved in front of the others, black short cut hair, end of twenties, average height. He concentrates on checking every corner, making sure there are no surprises, the rest of the team are behind him, fighting off a couple of zombies while he moved on ahead. He first notices the body of Dr George Romero, his heart dropped atop his body, blood and death a constant theme in the hospital.

As he edges closer, a movement in the corner of his eye, he points the gun, only to see a girl no older than fifteen trembling in a crouched position next to an operating table. He drops the gun next to him, holding his hands up to signal he means no harm. She just stares at him, still trembling. He studies her appearance, brown hair that falls below her shoulders, almost lifeless green eyes, pale skin, white patient garments.

"It's okay, I'm here to save you." He says gently, never taking his eyes off her. "My name is Phil, what's yours?" He says placing his hands down slowly, she studies the movement, before speaking broken-heartily.

"Zoey, I'm Zoey." As quick as a flash, she stood up and ran towards Phil, almost tackling him to the ground with a hug. She cried into his suit, wanting another human being to be near her other than Dr Romero. He had been shocked by the action, but gently hugged her back, feeling victorious as he had earned her trust.

"It's okay" he comforted "it's over now."

She lifted her head up from the warmth of his suit jacket, and stared at him with red veined eyes.

"It will never be over." She said, before diving back into the security of Phil's jacket.

* * *

**I hope that was okay, I do have multiple scenarios planned for zoey, and a look at her past before evil dr Romero. But I won't reveal nothing except this...be prepared for a lot of marvel characters, including one that hasn't had their own film yet...bye for now. Please review if you like this story really helps!**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter, yay I'm on a roll!**

**this chapter has a small spoiler for beyond:two souls, so just as a warning.**

**thank you already for the favourite and follow! didn't expect such a quick response.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners. **

**With that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_I've tried everything,_

_To get you off my mind,_

_I've been running 'round,_

_Breaking things, getting into fights,_

_Olly murs ~ I've tried everything_

* * *

More doctors, a taste for violence

I wait silently on the red plastic chair, the discomfort irritating me. It's been a month since Phil had saved me, since the hospital and since **him**. But again I find myself in another hospital, and I find myself having panic attacks as I relive the dark memories, still vivid behind my eyes. I have to say, this hospital has less...horror. It doesn't stop the screaming, especially in the maternity wards, but it does have a clean aroma to it.

I find myself unable to lean back on the chair, my mind pulsing as I can only get a few hours sleep at a time; nightmares not yet dormant. I close my eyes to block out the white coats that pass through the corridor, my chair against a wall next to a polished wooden door. The darkness may block out the white coats, but it doesn't block out the constant noise of surgery. I concentrate on pacing my breath, making sure they don't quicken. But the sound of metal objects cutting, and sowing, and clanging against a metal tray, only put me on edge.

Finally the door beside me opens, and a woman steps out and smiles at me, sympathy in her eyes. She ushers me to enter, and I follow, happy to get away from the noise. As soon as I step inside, I let my eyes wander over every inch of the room. I see neat piles of folders put on a wooden shelf, not one out of place. White plastic counter tops have more folders and boxes placed neatly in a line along each counter. On the back wall, more shelves, only these hold toys of all materials, shapes and sizes. I spot a plain brown teddy bear leaning against the back wall, a stitched smile from cheek to cheek, reminding me of Emily almost immediately.

The woman follows my gaze at the teddy bear, and the smile becomes genuine.

"You can take him home afterwards if you want, he's just going to sit there collecting dust anyway." She says sweetly. I don't look at her, my eyes leaving the toys on the shelves and finding them rest on a large desk. Like the shelves, everything is placed perfectly, a computer is at a slight angle so the woman can still talk and look at people when talking. A photo frame faces the back wall unable for me to see who is in the picture, but I'm guessing its the woman's family. The woman moves around the desk and sits in the chair carefully, I see a brown armchair just left of the computer, and voluntarily sit down. My fingers grabbing the arms, a habit I can't stop.

The woman smiles at me, but it has faltered slightly, likely because she now has to try and talk to me.

"Zoey...you know why you're here, don't you?" She asks, I nod. "After the traumatising...experience you found yourself in, it is understandable that you would feel distrust to someone like me, because of my career. But I promise you, I am here to help you. And what monstrosities that happened in that hospital, I can assure will never ever happen to you again." I can hear the sympathy in her voice, she knows that I would rather be anywhere but in this room right now, she understands that I'm suffering from the trauma. She knows facts, not feelings, not how I'm feeling right now, and then.

"My job, is to help children such as yourself to, find a way to confront the trauma or problems you suffer from past experiences, and make it easier to live with them. I can't help erase them completely, but I can help heal them...if you let me." As she stops, I realise she's waiting for an answer, so I nod again. She smiles, now focusing on me completely.

"For this session, I just want to ask you some questions. If you don't want to answer then just say, or show me you don't wish to talk about it. Is that ok?" I nod again.

"Do you remember anything before the hospital?"

A nod.

"Did these memories consist of your mother?"

Another nod.

"Do you know anything about your father?"

I shake my head, feeling a twinge in my heart.

"Did your mother ever talk about him?"

I shake my head again.

"Do you have any family members that you can contact?"

Another shake of my head, beginning to feel slightly dizzy from the movement.

"Do you have nightmares often?"

The sudden change in subject catches me off guard, but I nod my head after a short pause.

"Can you draw one for me?"

I think for a minute, then nod my head. She moves a piece of paper and a pencil towards me, I lean forward on the chair and grab the pencil. My mind tries to single out a nightmare, but there are so many I could draw. I finally pick one, seeing as it is the most common nightmare I have. The pencil glides elegantly over the thin paper, my drawing skills not the best but I do love watching the picture join together like a puzzle, revealing the final mystery. I put the pencil down, and hand the drawing to the woman, whose name still hasn't been mentioned. She studies the picture for a few minutes before turning it to face me, she uses her fingers to point at certain parts of the drawing.

"So this...cube, it uses a type of energy to power certain tools, or weapons. And you said on the drawing that it was alien technology." I nod my head, but I hear the disbelief in her tone. "So he used this energy, and was trying to control the human by firing the energy into someone's brain." She points to the machine, the one that ruined me, made me the freak I am now. Only Phil knows, he saw me when I lost control, which I do often...I can't control it, no one can. She puts down the picture, the man is mentioned, which creates an awkward silence around us.

"Zoey, speak truthfully...did Dr Romero ever sexual abuse y-" she doesn't finish, I don't let her.

"It's not true!" I yell. The sound of an electrical charge pulses for a split second and then a box of folders is blasted off a counter. The woman jumps in shock, her chair falling backwards onto its side. I breath heavily, the energy pulsing in me, only to be dormant again once my heartbeat slows down.

With a fearful expression, the woman looks at me.

"How did you do that?" She asks hastily.

"I don't mean to, I can't control it, it just happens. I want to stop it, but I can't, it's inside me. I've been able to do it since the machine exploded." I reply to her question, feeling tears forming in my eyes. The woman grabs her chair and sits back down, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Does Mr Coulson know, the one that brought you here?" She asks, and I nod. Steadying herself, she tries a smile, only to stop halfway. "I think that is all for us today, thank you Zoey for being so trustful towards me." She stands again and grabs the teddy bear off the shelf, handing it to me. I stare at it in my lap, the stitched smile being what I focus on the most.

"I know you probably think its too childish, but a toy is useful for many things. It is easy to talk to as it won't say what you don't want to hear, it can give someone a sense of security when you sleep. And an excellent friend." She finishes.

"Thank you." I say, still staring at the bear. I get up from the seat and make my way to the door, the cold feeling of the door handle around my fingers.

"My name is Jodie, Jodie Johanna." The woman says. I feel a smile form over my lips, the first time since I was a baby. I remember her, I remember my mum telling me about a girl called Jodie...the one that helped her give birth to me. I know it can't be the same person, but knowing her name, it makes me feel safer at her knowing about my powers.

"Thank you Jodie." I say before slipping out of the door. When I step out, I'm met with the white coats and the constant machinery noises. I'm on edge again, but the heavy veil that I feel over me has slightly lifted, but I still try to leave the hospital as quickly as I can. When I reach the reception area, I immediately spot Phil in his smart suit, he stands up an strides towards me. His little mischievous smile waiting for me to appear. I don't smile back, but he can tell I'm not so broken as when we first met.

"How did it go?" He asks, obviously wanting details. I just shrug my shoulders, he nods his head, seeing that he won't get anything out of me. He nudges me towards his car, well, the one he hired from the people he works for; S.H.I.E.L.D. Strapping the seatbelt on, I sit opposite Phil in the passenger seat. He doesn't turn the engine on, he sighs, searching for words in a touchy subject.

"You do understand why S.H.I.E.L.D needs you to go to a doctor?" He asks tentatively, staring into the rear view mirror for some strange reason.

"They want me to talk about what happened, about what he was doing...what he was doing to me." I know this already, a month in a cell ( or what S.H.I.E.L.D calls a room in their head quarters) and I had visit after visit from different agents trying to get me to even talk. Only Phil managed to, but I trust him, or at least I hope I can.

"They want you to have a relatively normal life, but that means you need to learn control, that is the most important thing. I don't want to see you in a cell for the rest of your life, nor do any of the other agents." He says with an almost sincere tone. Many agents saw me as S.H.I.E.L.D's baby, the agents being the only kind human contacts I had had in a very long time.

"I'm trying, honest. I don't know how, I don't know what he's even done." I counter, feeling depressed. I feel Phil's sympathetic eyes watching me.

"You will learn, in time. I know you will because you were smart and brave enough to destroy that machine, I know you can do it." He says before turning the engine on, ready for the long drive back to S.H.I.E.L.D

**Another chapter done, next chapter will be on her childhood before the hospital. Have to say, love writing coulson and Zoey interactions, they will get funnier when she's a bit older. that's all for now, pls review!**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, as I said this chapter is about Zoey before the hospital. There is quite a lot of spoilers in this chapter I believe, we'll, if you haven't watched or played beyond: two souls. Just a warning, but at the end you have choices, just pretend that Jodie chose Tuesday and everyone for this to work. **

**i realise this is shorter than the others, but maybe I will make the next one longer.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter.**

* * *

_Dancing bears, painted wings,_

_Things I almost remember,_

_And a song someone sings,_

_Once upon a December,_

_Anastasia ~ Once upon a December_

* * *

Party crasher 

The birthday cake was a simple sponge cake, but I didn't mind. Even from a young age I knew how difficult money was to come by, what money was scavenged, was kept back for a rainy day or to keep all of us fed. However, they did use some extra money to get beautiful blue icing, and wrote "happy seventh birthday Zoey" in large sloppy writing. Whoever wrote it got frustrated very quickly, making me feel even more grateful that they had done so much for me. With a large chorus of happy birthday sung out of tune, I blew out one lonely candle, the flickering flame dancing left and right. A round of clapping erupted, and I found myself giggling, my smile stretching so much that it began to ache.

"Happy birthday baby." My mom said in her honey sweet tone, we hugged tightly, our bond so thick that not even a chainsaw could cut it. Then Stan moved forward to hug me, only to catapult me into the air like a rocket, chuckling as I screamed with excitement. Eventually he pulled me back down, hugging me while still rocking left and right, him being just excited as I was about my birthday.

"Either you're getting too 'eavy, or I'm getting too old." He says, putting me down gently while stretching his arms and back.

"Defiantly the second one." I chip in, but everyone just smiles and laughs. It's Walters turn, his chuckles completely original, but his hugs almost choke me. Him used to being teacher, I learn most things from him, but my mom still tells him off when he slips a bit on his language, even though I'm used to it. He smells just like a classroom, like chalk from a whiteboard.

"You grow up way too fast, our little miracle." He says. That's what they all call me, their little miracle, I don't understand why, mom says she will tell me when I'm older but I have my own theories. They all used to live on the streets, my mom too, when she was pregnant with me. I probably know more about the world than I should, my young age making people believe I don't understand what they talk about, but I do.

Jimmy is the last, his scratchy brown beard always irritates my skin, but his warm hugs makes up for it. He smiles at me and I smile back, before diving into his hug. He always moans about School, but deep down we all know that he's thankful that he was accepted. We all are, everyone is thankful for what we have, even if its nothing because at least we have each other. They don't like talking about living on the streets, most find it hard, but Stan just says that everyday they had to live like it was their last. That it changed when he found a young woman freezing to death in the cold, and he helped her, and she helped them.

I let go of Jimmy, all hugged out. He ruffles my relatively short brown hair, which I giggle before putting every strand back to where it should be. Stan claps his hands, his eyes sparkling.

"So present time?" He asks mom, who sighs before nodding her head at acceptance. Me and Stan race to my room, while everyone follows behind us. In a small pile by my pink bed, are a couple of poorly wrapped presents, most with cello tape poking out at different ends of them. We form a circle around the presents, Walter sits in an old wood weaved chair in a corner of the room, his bad back unable to let him sit on the floor. Stan and Jimmy sits on there knees on the floor in front of my bed. Leaving me and my mom to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You pick them sweetie." Mom whispers in my ear. I stare at all of them, calculating which one is from who. I pick up a book shaped mass of newspaper, the wrapping so messy a four year old could do better. I read that it is from Walter. Tearing the newspaper, I reveal a book about different myths and legends. I gasp, it looks extremely expensive. I smile at Walter and say thank you about a million times. He just chuckles, I place the book beside me and go to grab another one but at random this time. This one is from Stan, it's also wrapped in newspaper but the wrapping is slightly better. His face lights up at my curiosity, it taking me longer to break through the wrapping. It's a bag full of small plastic soldiers, each one melted onto the oval shape stand.

"Is this more for your benefit or Zoey's?" My mom says sarcastically, Stan just raising his hands in defence before smiling at my thank yous. I again place them by the side of me, picking up another poorly wrapped present, this one from Jimmy. I can feel my mom sighing, waiting patiently for me to pick her present. I rip the colourful flower wrapping paper, and find my eyes resting on a DVD, a gory seen of zombies and broken buildings reside behind them.

The DVD is my mom's last straw, she gives all the men sour looks. Jimmy looks slightly confused, wondering what he's done wrong.

"Honestly men these days! That movie is far from suitable for her, I don't want you men corrupting her already." She exasperates, almost face palming at the blank looks the men were giving her. None of them never having children, didn't know much about what a six year old girl would like.

"I can wait until I'm older, but I like the look of it, it looks scary!" I counter, watching as Jimmy wears a slight smile of pride, glad that I wasn't disappointed. Finally, there are only two presents left, putting the zombie movie aside, I pick a neatly wrapped shiny gold package. My heads turns to face my mom, I see the care in her eyes, and I know i would never want to change my family for the world. I carefully tear it open, a little guilty for ruining the perfect wrapping. My eyes bulge and my mouth falls open. Inside the gold wrapping, there is a beautifully painted music box, purple streams of spirals dance over the box, twisting and changing direction. A ballet dancer is placed carefully in the centre, the spring neatly tucked away under a red velvet sheet inside the box interior. I find the key that turns with that loud clicking sound, when it refuses to turn anymore, I let it go, and the beautiful melody of "once upon a December" plays. Mom knows its my favourite disney movie, the song touched me the first time I watched it, the melody just seemed itself so beautiful.

I swiftly turn to her, music box still in my hand, and hug my mom tightly. I feel stray tears rolling down my face, but they are tears of joy. Mom holds me, stroking my hair like she never wants to lose me, but she won't, because I would never want to leave her. We eventually stop the embrace, and once again I travel around my family and thank them with even more hugs. I leave the presents on my bed, everyone waiting to eat the birthday cake. As I sit on a stool in the kitchen, a series of knocks come from the door, Jimmy goes to answer it while mom, Walter and Stan prepare the table for the cake.

"I didn't miss out on cake did I?" Everyone turns to the front door. Standing in her usual winter wear of a brown scarf hidden under a denim coat, with combat type jeans, is Jodie Holmes. A cheer of happiness echoes as everyone goes to greet the late arrival, hugs and greetings are shared until everyone is sick and tired of hugs.

"So, where is the birthday girl?" Jodie quips. I leave my stool and run towards Jodie, a passive smile plastered onto my face, her own shines, but her eyes still have the tiny glimmer of sadness that never seems to fade. Crouching down to my level, she takes a small parcel out of her pocket, I take it gingerly. I let my fingers roll the parcel over, and its soon before my curiosity makes me open the package. Inside was a bronze coloured necklace in the shape of an old book, the locket had a small clip at side. With my bitten nails I open the locket, and see a picture of everyone. Stan, jimmy, Walter, mom and Jodie smiling at an invisible camera. I let a single finger roll over the photo, my heart beating loudly.

"Look at the back." I hear Jodie's voice that seems far away. I turn the locket over, and engraved with posh swirly writing it reads:

_To Zoey, so you can have your family with you forever..._

I look up at Jodie, and see her small smile but with a sparkle in hers eyes. We've always had this understanding, like we don't need words to communicate, we just need to look into each other's eyes...and we know.

"I love all of you so much." I whisper, the stray tears still escaping down my face.

"We love you too squirt." Jimmy's voice echoes from behind Jodie. It's silence for a few seconds, not an awkward silence just a silence because we need no words.

"So when are we having the cake, I'm starving." Jodie says, never taking her eyes off me.

* * *

The day passes too quickly, so much that I find myself being tucked into bed by Jodie. She disappears for weeks at a time, sometimes a month. She never tells me where she goes, but every time I see the sadness in her eyes deepen, as if she knows something catastrophic. I want to ask her, but never seem to be able to form the words.

Mom and the others are opening up a bottle of wine they kept by for today, getting merry is something they only do on special occasions. Jodie pushes the last of the pink fairy duvet under the mattress, keeping me prisoner in the cosy warmth. She kisses my forehead, but I can tell she knows I want to ask questions.

"Where do you go, when your not here?" I finally say, the question pestering me for too long. Jodie quivers slightly, obviously not happy that I've cornered her, but she answers anyway.

"I'll tell you when you're older, for now, let it be a mystery." She replies, I feel a bit annoyed that she didn't tell me, but at least I will know when I'm older.

On the nightstand next to my bed, a pink lamp shade and the music box sits perfectly beside, the necklace kept safe inside it. Jodie picks it up and turns it, the melody playing softly in the early night. We both watch as the ballet dancer spins slowly, memorised by the movement. My eyes start to close, the tiredness I didn't feel earlier catching me off guard. I jolt awake though when Jodie goes to turn the lamp off.

"Please leave it on, I don't like the dark...I'm afraid the monsters will get me." I blurt out, Jodie quickly moves her hand away from the lamp. Seeing the fear in my eyes, she kneels beside me, a hand cupped over my forehead, making me feel secure.

"I promise you, the monsters will never hurt you...they'll have to get through me first." She vows, before kissing my forehead one last time. Leaving me with the bright lamp and the melody playing. I lay on my side facing the music box, my eyes following the ballet dancer. Within seconds I'm fast asleep, unable to hear Jodie like up towards the sky and say one sentence.

"Keep her safe Aidan."

* * *

**As I said short, but probably for the best as I kinda struggled writing this one, don't know why. Anyhow, this does follow the concept of beyond: two souls that it shows her life not in chronological order (get me with bigs words!...no? i ok then) but I hath ink it works better that way. Will try and upload the next part tomorrow, but I'm really enjoying these one-shots lots of fun to write.**

**bye for now**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	4. Chapter 4

**This is the third time I've tried to upload this :/, hopefully it will work this time.**

**a big jump in Zoey's life but I think it fits perfectly in between the last chapter and the one after this one.**

**loki and hawk eye will make an appearance after the next few chapters, I promise.**

**i don't really like Demi Lovato, but I really like this song.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_Im a fire starter, Make your blood run faster_

_I melt hearts like water,_

_Im a fire starter, Im a sweet disaster,_

_I melt hearts like water,_

_I might look all innocent,_

_But the embers are burning inside of me,_

_And Im ready to take that step, Cant you see, cant you see,_

_Im a badass jumping off the moving train,_

_Im a Jane Bond, putting all them guys to shame,_

_Im a wild card, imma bout to take my aim,_

_You better watch out, watch out,_

_Demi Lovato ~Firestarter_

* * *

Caged and betrayed.

I can hear fans spinning in the metal vents. My groggy senses being corrupted by a headache forming across my forehead. Every inch of my body bruised and without any feeling, probably due to Natasha's punch bag session she made of me, my powers unable to even deflect her sharp punches. My mouth moans without permission, signalling the others limbs to agree.

I open my eyes to a blurry vision of a white ceiling. Confusion befalls me as it doesn't seem familiar. I then notice the shiny surfaces around me, glass; likely bullet-proof glass. The room isn't familiar, I know every inch of S.H.I.E.L.D, but not this room, which terrifies me.

I sit up straight within an instant, alarm sketching onto my face. I realise it isn't a room, but a gigantic cage. While the powers heal my body, I find myself sitting on a small rectangle bed that hooks onto the glass wall behind me. The white plastic not classified as a bed, but it is the only thing I can call it at this present moment.

"They've caged me like an animal." I whisper, the betrayal hurting with each passing minute. I can only assume I'm being monitored by cameras, seeing as there is no guards nor agents to look disappointed at me.

I feel anger ripple in my mind, just knowing that every agent in S.H.I.E.L.D blames me, when I know that they are in the wrong. But no, I'm the freak, I'm the one that's locked up while they continue to lie to everyone person on the planet. I thought S.H.I.E.L.D was better than that, turns out they are just like every other government and organisation in the world...they all want higher power.

I spin both my legs off the plastic bed and let them hang over the edge. I now see the controls at the outside of the cage, the futuristic controls way before its time. The headache gets worse, forcing me to put my head between my legs.

"Good sleep? I hope so cause you better get used to it." The voice of Nick Fury makes my teeth grind together. I can't lift my head too far or the headache sparks viciously, so I am unable to look up at his face. I don't need to, I know his usual look of a long black leather coat and matching black clothes, and of course, the eye patch.

"You honestly think your cage can hold me? Then you're losing your touch Director." I say the last word with venom, knowing this game of cat and mouse too well, and I'm sure as hell going to be the cat.

"No I don't, but I do have something else to show you." I can hear him turn some of the controls, and then a gush of wind as the large metal floor beneath the glass opens up to reveal that we are very high up. I get the picture, but he still explains it. "You touch that glass, you drop...simple as that." He shouts over the rushing wind.

I lift my head, as he turns the controls back again, the wind silenced for now. I smile maliciously, knowing that this cage wasn't built for me, they would have made, more of an effort if it was for me.

"This cage isn't for me." I state from my deduction.

"No, but it can still serve its original purpose to you too." He says, that no emotions vibe he gives off so easily. But I know the act, good cop and bad cop...wonder which one he's trying to play off now. He will send someone else in time, they will just wait to see what I do, and then here comes the next cop to get what they want out of me. I lean backwards onto the glass, pretending to get comfortable by crossing my arms over my chest. A snarky expression on my face.

"Why would I want to leave? After all, this is my home, maybe we can open a bottle of champagne as a welcome home celebration." I smirk, feeling triumphant as Fury stares a dagger at me. This is just the beginning, and it will be a long game.

"This isn't your home Williams, you lost that respect when you killed those agents." He hides the anger, but I can see it in his eye. I'm not totally heartless, I'm not proud that I killed those agents, but their blood is on his hands too. I stand up slowly walking to the glass as I speak, a clear loathing on my face.

"If you hadn't have used me as one of your faze 2 weapons, none of them would have had to die. I may have been the one to end their lives...but you were the one that put them in that position." I pause, reaching the edge of the glass, staring straight into Fury's remains eye, making sure he hears every inch of change in my voice, making sure he remembers this day.

"If you had told me that you were actually experimenting with the tesseract...then maybe I wouldn't have taken it so personally." I hiss. Fury gulps, seeing the poisoned memories hidden in my soul of the hospital of hell. He keeps his cool however, and walks around the cage to the exit.

The metal walkway clatters under his boots, but he strides infused by the noise, or my words for that matter, but I can tell that they are bubbling in his brain as he never looks at me.

"Welcome home Williams, you ain't budging from here." He finishes our conversation with these words and walks out of the detention area (I assume is where this cage is). With him gone, I begrudgingly sit back on the plastic bed, already bored to death by the plainness of the cage.

Leaning my back against the back wall again, I lift my left hand slightly. Concentrating on it, I feel the electric charge that pulses in my fingers and palm, let the energy absorb for a few second before igniting it. A beautiful blue flame dances in my palm, no harm comes to my skin by this energy, however the sleeve tips on my hoodie are slightly singed from how many times I've used this one trick that I can actually control.

I stare at my reflection in the glass opposite, the blue flame slightly clear on the glass. My clothes consist of a dark grey hoodie that is singed in multiple areas, especially around the arms and chest area. They obviously removed the brown leather jacket I was wearing before and put it somewhere (likely doing protocol of searching for secret gadgets or weaponry). Baggy tattered dark blue jeans that practically covered my black streaked trainers.

Being on the run from every government was never easy, as I got told by Jodie when I was younger. I never would have seen myself doing it, but when they all want to jab needles and shit into you, running is the only option. The only reason S.H.I.E.L.D even caught up with me was because of Natasha and Clint, the two best assassins in S.H.I.E.L.D, they trained me, so of course they were going to kick my ass.

I revert back to looking at my reflection, I see my eyes. Clouded over with the familiar blue glow from the machine that still haunts my nightmares. I hate that my eyes do this, it's like an extra reminder that I'm a monster, that I'm abnormal...like I need another reminder.

The flame in my hand extinguishes to my command, and I let my head rest against the glass with a small thud, closing my eyes to have a quick nap while I wait for my bruises to heal, and for Fury's next move.

* * *

"Of all the people Fury could send to make me talk, he sends _you_." I say with little enthusiasm as Maria Hill stands in front of my cage. I had heard someone coming, thus jolting wide awake ready for another round with Fury, only to be disappointed by seeing Agent Hill. Arms crosses, stern expression on her face, but of course the eyes glow with the disappointment I was expecting.

"Agent Coulson is away on a mission in New Mexico, or he would be the one here, not me." Straight to the point, Agent Hill hasn't changed one bit. The mention of Coulson does make my heart deflate slightly, I will never forget the look of utter betrayal on his face as I left him with the dead agents. I ran so fast, but I could hear his sadness from a mile away. I'm jolted out of my mind when I get curious about his mission.

"What is so important in New Mexico that Fury would send Agent Coulson? I thought he was babysitting Stark." I reply with fake sincerity, only earning a sour look from Agent Hill.

"Since you are no longer a member of S.H.I.E.L.D that information is none of your concern." She counters, ignoring my statement about Tony Stark. I raise my hands defensively, getting enjoyment from messing with her head.

"Fine, I'll just have to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D and find out for myself." I sigh, pretending that it will be hard work, yeah right. I can see that Agent Hill's patience is wearing thin as she purses her lips and then makes them straight again within a split second.

"How could you?" She surprises me with this question, expecting a quip at how I can't possibly be able to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D blah blah blah. I sit up properly, the conversation getting interesting.

"How could I? Those agents were sent by Fury to kill me, so I was just supposed to surrender was I? Let them shower bullets into me before your scientists dissected every last inch of my body?" I counter, the anger returning in my brain and slithering through the whole system.

"Zoey, S.H.I.E.L.D would never intently harm you or anyone. S.H.I.E.L.D was made to protect Earth and its people from Alien threats, not to dissect young women. You're twenty years old, so, what, you're going to throw your life away because S.H.I.E.L.D lied to you to protect you?" Agent Hill's voice got gradually louder as she continued, the stern expression gone, she was asking genuine questions.

"What life? So far all I've ever done is made into a freak, taken in by a secret government that no-one should know about, been kicked out of every school I've been to, lost control more times than i can count, betrayed by the people I love and to top it all off I'm now a fugitive wanted by every damn government in America. What possible future do I have, tell me that!" I challenge her, locking away the tears that tried to escape back into my eyes. All the emotions I had hidden away, all the anger that I tried to replace with dark humour, spilling out in that speech. That sad thing was, it was all true.

There is a long pause of silence, only the vents and distant chattering of agents in the main centre is audible as Agent Hill stares at me with pure disbelief. She can't even speak, a first since I've known her. I found that while I was making my speech, I had walked back up towards the glass, waiting for her answer to my question that I cannot seem to find.

"You honestly can't see it can you?" She finally says just audible through the glass of my cage. "Coulson has taken care of you ever since S.H.I.E.L.D first stormed into that godforsaken hospital, and he has loved you ever since. How can you stand there, and say that you have no future, how dare you. You two could have had a future together, father and daughter because that's exactly how he saw you, _his_ family, you ruined that chance the moment you murdered those agents. Now, you will suffer the consequences of those action." She replies, anger apparent in every word she had said.

We lock eyes for what feels like an eternity. The tears finally fall for the millionth time in my life, I'm crying, the tears painful like acid running down my cheeks. I stand extra close to the glass, just enough so my nose barely touches the cold sheet of clear crystals.

"My _family_ is dead, murdered by the people that nearly destroyed the world by using equipment that they didn't fully understand ironically. Someone stopped them, so that's what I did, I stopped S.H.I.E.L.D from making the same mistakes. And look at the thanks I get." I choke on the lump that has formed in my throat.

This conversation is coming to an end, I can sense it, and so does Agent Hill. She does the thing with her lips one last time, before striding away without looking at me in the eye, just like Fury did a few hours ago.

"You had a family Zoey, every agent cared about you...and you betrayed us. You are no better than the people that re-built the damn machine." Is her last speech, filled with acidic venom.

I'm left alone in the pitiful cage again, depressed and broken, unlike my sarcastic attitude with Director Fury. I savagely wipe away the tears on my face, refusing to put a show on for the agents that are monitoring the cameras. I feel more alone than ever, like I was back at the hospital of hell. A scared little girl, that's all I am...that's all I will ever be, scared.

* * *

**A drama filled chapter, I know it's a big jump but as I said it works at we here I want to send her next chapter. This is happening during thor, which is why Phil is in New Mexico.**

** Bye for now,**

**~ gothgirlstrikesagain **

Read more: Demi Lovato - Fire Starter Lyrics | MetroLyrics


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry that this is later then normal, but I made this a bit longer than I planned (Well it felt longer).**

**no spoilers in this chapter.**

**i plan on writing hawk eye next chapter, not revealing what I've got planned ;).**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_Children, Hypocrisy, that's what I give, you can take it from me,_

_If you don't, won't live to see, one last act of tragedy,_

_A mother's heart can make me humble,_

_No life lost can make it stumble,_

_Our empire will never crumble,_

_we did it for the glory, the glory,_

_only the glory, _

_We live inside a story,_

_Its a story, all for the glory..._

_Hollywood undead~ glory_

* * *

Normal life, abnormal girl

The assembly hall was ginormous, consisting of wooden panelled walls and those fancy polished desks seen in classic Victorian films. Every single student was a brainiac in some form. Even the greaser boys with their gelled hair could easily explain string theory to a class of freshman's.

The uniform worn by these students and me, was a navy blue blazer and matching v-neck jumper, a spotless white shirt hidden underneath. On these blazers, was the school emblem of three golden letters untwined together as the first letter of each of the words in the school's name: St Peter's School for the gifted (the last part just describing what they want out of each student).

It is the most credited school without adding the private ones. Many people moved onto greater things from this school, an example would be Dr Bruce Banner. I feel extremely out of place here, sure I understand and can interpret certain sciences (this becoming a hobby while watching S.H.I.E.L.D's scientists work on new inventions) but I'm not super smart, I'll be lucky if I last a few months.

Within the first minutes on entering this high quality school, I had already made a fool of myself by asking a teacher for directions. He had turned his nose up at me in disgust, stating that 'I should be smart enough to figure it out, if I wished to stay'. Nonetheless, he pointed me in the direction of the assembly hall. Luckily a less stuck-up teacher ushered me into a seat in the front row, right in front of the magnificent stage area. Most of my other classmates ignore me, while others sneer as they smell the fear radiating off my body.

The room is silent, and I find that everyone is excited for some unbeknown reason. And then, like a spill to a flame, the whole hall erupts into cheers as billionaire Tony Stark strides onto the stage. He acts as if he's so far up his own ass that philanthropy would be seen as a crime. The students become silent again within seconds, like trained dogs.

He paces back and forth across the stage, hands clamped together behind his back, his eyes passing over every one of us. The anticipation as to what he will say suffocates the hall, but I seem to lack in this, not at all excited by this special visitor.

"Every single one of you in this hall today, is the future of the human race." He speaks slowly, keeping everyone on the edge of their seats, hanging on every word. He still paces, but this captivating aura I have to admit is hypnotising. But I refuse to fall for these tricks, I know what he does, he creates weapons of mass destruction and from my own experience I can say that weapons such as these are always trouble.

"You will decide where we go, how far science and economy stretches...you are the next step to world peace. Which is why I'm standing in front of you today. I hated school, teachers were all stuck-up and refused to let our creativity reach to what we wanted to accomplish in life. As I recall, I actually managed to prove a teacher wrong once or twice." He daydreams to himself as he remembers his school days, unable to see the disapproving looks the teachers were giving him. He returns eventually, his hands now free and flailing about as he speaks.

"What I'm trying to say, don't let anybody tell you that you can't do something, because you can with hard work. Look at me, I wouldn't be super rich and be the main supplier of military weaponry if I didn't work hard." He chuckles to himself, before shutting up as he sees all the blank faces of students.

He carries on, but I'm unable to listen to anymore of his speech. My mind can't process all the arrogance coming from one individual, so instead I keep myself occupied by visualising Clint's combat training from the last couple of weeks. At the start, it was just supposed to be an exercise to help me let off some steam while the frustration of becoming a teenager agitated me. However, I started to find it more than just an exercise, it helped keep my mind clear and able to keep control of my powers. Focusing on whether Clint was going to kick my legs out from under me or twist my arm around my back, seemed to leave the tesseract's power dormant.

I had already tried multiple strategies to control it, but none had created success. That was my main objective; to keep control. S.H.I.E.L.D's main fear for me was that I would become a danger to people, which meant not even the slightest chance of a normal life, which was what I wanted more than anything, an average, everyday, secret organisation free life. Going to school was the first step, and I already have given myself way too much attention by not paying any attention to Tony Stark, which now I will pay for.

"You, daydreamer at the front." He clicked his fingers to get my attention, and when I shot my eyes straight at him he smiled handsomely. "What is your opinion on the new weaponry designed by Stark industries?" He asks me. I feel every pair of eyes in the room suddenly stare at me, a few girls jealous that Tony Stark had picked me instead of them. I know I should lie, tell him what he wants to hear, but I'm no liar.

"I have nothing to say." Simply put, but I know deep down that I have a lot that I would like to say. He smiles again, before chuckling slightly.

"Modest, come on humour me." He invites, which makes me purse my lips before I speak, though I should be keeping my opinions to myself.

"I think they are not the answer to world peace, if anything, they will create more terrorist acts." I should be quiet, I should leave it at that...but I can't. "Are you not worried about terrorist organisations capturing this technology and using it for their own? Because I sure would be." I challenge, getting what I wanted to say off my chest. I can hear murmurs and chattering around the hall but it is quickly shushed by teachers.

While they are finding order again, me and Tony Stark share a staring contest, and I win by default as he jumps of the stage and proceeds to walk over to me. When he is standing right in front of my seat, I have to look up slightly to meet his gaze. It's like he's trying to decipher me, searching for a right answer to my question.

"What's your name kid?" Not the question I was expecting, but I can tell by his plain attitude that there is a reason for this question.

"Zoey Williams, Sir." I say, though I don't know where the _sir_ came from. He ponders for a moment, to which I take a chance and take in his appearance. Spotless plaid grey suit with no creases or worn material, expensive black sunglasses that hang out of the jacket pocket of the suit. His strange beard that actually compliments him, honestly, I don't understand why girls fancy this guy.

"Well Zoey, let me ask you a question: Is it better to be feared or respected?" He asks, expecting me to give a flawless answer, I just glare at him as I word the answer in my head. Again, I can feel everyone watching as our game of back and forth plays out.

"Neither, because you can't have one without the other. True, people could argue that you can be respected without fear, but honestly people respect you because they are scared of what you will do if they don't." I explain, probably not needing to. He nods his head to the side with a short nod, signalling that he likes the answer.

He points a hand at me, turning to all the other students. Being singled out was never part of the plan for my first day, saying that, I've already broken most of my rules in the first few minutes anyway.

"This is the kind of thinking we at Stark industries want to see out of your generation. To not be afraid to speak your own opinions, even if people don't agree with them. Thank you Zoey for that calculated answer. I believe that's the end, busy schedule and all that." He finishes the assembly with that, most people clapping as he exits out the side doors by the stage. The teachers get everyone putting the chairs away, before leading them to their next classes. My mind suddenly realises what I've done, and sure enough many students (mostly girls) glare at me with evil eyes...perfect first day ahead.

* * *

I literally collapse against the sink in the girls toilets, my body vibrating from the embarrassment I've encountered in the first two lessons. Turning the cold tap on, I splash the freezing water over my face as I try to block out the students snide remarks about the assembly earlier. The first lesson was mathematics, not all bad, but I'm sure the teacher picked me for most answers to see how empty-headed I was. Luckily it passed quickly and I was moved towards languages by other students in my class, only one being kind enough to help me find the classes.

She was alright, I think she said her name was Sophie Harker. Her family was famous for having at least one scientist in each generation, so pressure mounted quickly on her as she was an only child. She had mentioned dancing over a hundred times, so I assumed her ambition was being a famous dancer or at least keep dancing in her life. It was nice talking to another girl my age (I say talk, Sophie did most of the talking), but it was difficult to find a subject we could both chat about. Sophie carried on about her family issues, thankfully never asking about mine, I couldn't lie but it was a touchy subject.

It was only in languages that I really felt not welcome. Our teacher, Miss Lowsely spoke the whole lesson in German, which I didn't know a single word except Sprechen Sie Englisch?, which meant do you speak English? (Seemed a good way to start since Phil was always on my case about learning at least five different languages.) and Sophie wasn't much help has she spent most of the time texting her boyfriend, squealing every so often when he had replied.

The sentence _I don't know miss_ I used a lot in that lesson, much to Miss Lowsely annoyance, but apparently she had let me off as it was the first day. Nonetheless, by the end I had rushed towards the girl's toilets (Sophie had told me where they were), dodging around students, needing space to breathe.

Once I had completely drenched my face and. Dampened the tips of my brown hair, I stared at my reflection. Heavy bags were under by dull green eyes, because of the lack of sleep I've been getting. My skin still slightly paler than what I remember it being before the hospital, even though I've had a year of Phil practically forcing food and nutrients into me. Paranoia attacks me, so quick I fumble as I try to turn the tap off. Crowded places never helps my nerves, but I should be alright now shouldn't I? After a year of Dr Johanna' sessions and Phil's encouragement, I should be ok right?

My mind doesn't seem to listen to logic, as I still shake slightly. I keep flicking my eyes to my bag, as if so done is going to steal it, even with me not two yards away. I breathe in and out, composing myself for I suspect the bell for third lesson should sing soon. Before I can hook the bag onto my shoulder, the door creaks open, and three suspiciously butch girls stride in. Their animalistic eyes are focused on me, I freeze like a deer in the headlights as they trap me from escape.

"What you said to Tony Stark was inappropriate, all you were doing was trying to impress him but we could see straight through it." The middle one says, blonde hair cut short so it's just above her shoulders, large muscles in her arms and legs, built for shoving victim's heads into flushed toilets.

I want to tell them they got it wrong, that I was just speaking my own opinion, it won't do any good. They continue to edge closer towards me, so eventually I have to take steps backwards to keep an amount of space between us.

"Yeah, we could see right through it." The one on the left repeats, signalling that she is just in the group to keep herself from becoming the victim. Her ginger hair glowing in the lamp above, her psychical appearance is quite meek and timid, but I reckon she could still pack a punch if she wanted to. The one on the right remains quiet, and I realise that it is Sophie, her plump appearance in this pack of hyenas makes me feel betrayed, I thought I had at least made one friend in this school.

I sense that I'm running out of space behind me, I panic again, not wanting to be beaten to death but not wanting to loose control either. I'm running out of options fast, so I do the only thing that I can do to stop them.

"Please, you really don't want to do this." I say hysterically, the threat meaning nothing as the ring leader sneers before moving forward and pushing me into the cold wall behind me. She goes for a right swing but I dodge just in time as her fist crashes into the wall, a screech of pain and a new fist shaped whole in the white painted wall. She swells with anger, and tries to punch me with her left, but again I dodge the attack. Unfortunately I stumble over something, my bag, Sophie and the other girl have scarpered and left their leader to pelt me. In slow motion I fall backwards, my head narrowly missing the cemented flooring.

The girl turns to face me, murder in her eyes as her right hand has blood dripping to the floor. As she runs at me like a moving train, I cower myself into a fall on my side, waiting for the pain. But it never comes, energy charges within me and is released, all of the taps exploding, spraying clear liquid everywhere. I hear the bully scream distantly, the shock of water splashing in her face. The energy surge continues as the toilets explode open, fountains spitting upwards in each cubicle.

"You're a freak...a monster!" The girl shouts with fear,I hear her feet sprint out of the toilets and the door slam shut. I don't move from my curled up position on the floor, even when the water seeps into my uniform. I gasp for air as another panic attack makes my lungs demand more oxygen I can't produce quick enough. All I hear is the gushing water and my own stampeding heartbeat. As I lie on the floor, one realisation pops into my head and is quickly engulfed by random sparks of dark places in my brain.

This is the end of my education at St Peter's School for the gifted, apparently students with alien technology pumping inside them doesn't count as gifted.

**another chapter done, I was wondering... Are you enjoying this story? Would you like it interpreted differently, or are unsure about what is happening? Just pm me i don't mind.**

**bye for now,**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	6. Chapter 6

**I know this is late, but I stupidly didn't save what I had written and had to start all over again! Really annoyed at myself for doing that.**

**anyway, I thought I could do this in one chapter but in the end I decided it wouldn't be right, so it will have parts, I don't know how many though.**

**i don't really have a song for this chapter, maybe someone could think of one and tell me...possibly.**

**and as promised hawk eye is in this one, he will be I the next one as well.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

The past comes back to haunt: part one

Pain pulses through my wrist as Clint twists an arm around my back, kicking my legs out from under me so I fall flat onto the crash mat, his hand keeping the grip on my wrist. I grit my teeth as I try to wait for him to weaken so I can shake his grip off me, but he doesn't even break into a sweat.

As the pain begins to throb, I admit defeat, and Clint finally let's go of my wrist. I lie on the ground for a second, before hauling myself onto my feet, my training tank top drenched with sweat.

Just for the hell of it, I go to swing a foot in the direction of Clint's legs, trying to floor him for once. But at the last second he spins around and grabs my foot, pushing forwards so I lose my balance and fall backwards onto the blue mat. He blankly stares at me, his hand still clutching my foot. When I finally forfeit properly, he lets go of my foot and leaves the hand there for me to grab. I'm cautious at first, thinking its another trick, but I take it and he lifts me to my feet.

I place both my hands on my knee caps and feel them bend under the weight, I breathe in all the oxygen my lungs will let me. Clint breathes evenly, clearing not even fazed by the three hours of pinning me to the ground in forty different ways.

The training room is just a massive hall, lined with the familiar metal texture scene in every other room in S.H.I.E.L.D. The S.H.I.E.L.D eagle symbol crafted into the wall nearest to us, it taking up half the wall in question. Most of the room is filled with guns and military-style assault courses, except for one corner.

In this corner are three archery targets, each one fitted with a human outline board. A steel shelf sits lonely near the targets, and placed atop it is Clint's scientifically designed now and arrows.

I learnt the lesson to never under any circumstances touch Clint's bow (the mistake I made once, nearly set the all the training equipment on fire, it's not my fault he doesn't separate the explosives ones.) If you want to find Clint, just go to the training room and there he will be firing three arrows in one draw at the targets.

When I finally get some of my breath back, I stand up straight, waiting for another hour of the blue mat itching against my skin. Clint watches the archery area with hawk-like accuracy (no pun intended) before turning them back onto me.

"Well done squirt, maybe in a few months you many actually make me sweat." He makes comments like this a lot when it comes to combat, making sure I understand that he is the one with experience.

"Stop calling me squirt, I'm sixteen; not six." I reply in between heavy breaths. Before I can say something else, he has already started striding towards the archery area, leaving me on the blue mats. The metal clanks under his leather boots, I can imagine a robot walking when it does this, even his stiff posture fits the description of a robot.

"Come on squirt, I want to try something new." He shouts, which is unnecessary when the hall echoes every word loudly.

_Crap_ is all I can think. Bad things always happen in S.H.I.E.L.D when the word _new_ is involved, especially when the scientists are concerned. But like a dog with its trainer, I follow Clint without question.

When I do finally reach him, he instructs me to stand directly opposite of the middle target, making me take a few steps backwards in the process. He stands to the side of me, as if I'm an exploded bomb that could go off in any second.

"Director Fury told you to never use your abilities, is that right?" He asks, which makes me curious if not slightly nervous.

"Yes sir." I reply like a soldier.

"I want you to blast that target with your abilities." Straight to the point, like one of his arrows aimed at my head (which has happened before when I pissed him off, never will I attempt that again, I'm still scared now to piss off if he does actually fire one). I turn to him, a shocked expression on my face, as if the idea of even remembering my abilities is horrifying.

"But Fury told me not to." I try to diverse Clint away from this new exercise, and fail miserably.

"So? Never stopped me before." He replies, trying his best to turn me into a rebel like him.

"_Phil_ told me not to." This gets more of a reaction out of him, I can almost see him re-think, only for him to keep to his decision a split second later. "I can't control it, what if something goes wrong?" I ask desperately, this being my last argument available to me.

"How do you know if you never try? If something goes wrong, then you won't make the same mistake twice." He states, forcing me into a corner, figuratively, making me claustrophobic. I've lost the argument, so I do as he says.

I focus my mind on forming an image of electricity pulsing in my hands, charging as the crackling sound gets louder. I concentrate on this image until I feel a tingle run down my arms and gather in my hands. When I look down at them, two circular blue orbs are glowing in them.

I stare in amazement, but keeping my mind from celebrating too much, not letting the orbs become uncontrollable. With steadiness, I lift my right hand so it's level with the target. When I feel my strength weaken, I let go of the energy and watch as it speeds towards the target.

The humming sound is slightly slower than the orb, but it soon explodes into the target, hiding it from sight with clouds of smoke. When the smoke clears, there is a large circular hole in the centre of the target, singed by the energy. I can tell that I can't release the second one, the first one draining me. I focus on enstingishing the other one, it vanishes with a click and I'm back to my sweat covered self.

I turn to Clint, who still wears his blank expression, but with a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. He can't take his eyes off the target, but I have never known him be speechless, and he is not now.

"Remind me never to piss you off again." He states, and I smile at his attempt at humour. He sees my smile and defends its the end of the session. Just as he says this, an agent flies through the training room door and practically jogs towards us. Me and Clint can tell its important as the agent isn't exactly the most agile, and yet he never slows down or stops until he reaches us.

"Director Fury requests both your presences in his office' immediately." The agent says, just as breathless as I was earlier. Before we can react, the agent is off running again, obviously having to repeat the request to other agents.

I turn to Clint, and see that he's watching the agent leave, as if he's trying to calculate what Fury wants from here. He crosses his arms in puzzlement, and I'm forced to fill in the silence.

"You don't think it's about just now, using my abilities?" I ask with a small ounce of disbelief, and a large amount anxiety. Clint still watches where the agent went, even once the doors slam shut. Eventually he acknowledges that I asked him a question.

"Fury may have only one eye, but he knows this place inside out...he likely sees _everything_." He says evenly, but I can see a twitch of a smirk in the corner of his lips. I glare at him, finding it not funny at all.

"Best go and find out want he wants, better not me having to train you even more, I might break something having to keep hauling your ass of the mat." I sense the sarcasm, and death glare him some more.

Like before, he's off in an instant towards the door, again leaving me on my own.

"Hurry up squirt." He shouts, already half way across the training room. I'm used to this treatment and jog after him, growling at his sentence.

"How many times, stop calling me squirt!" I say angrily, finally catching up with his quick feet.

* * *

When we arrive in Fury's office, it's easy to tell that we are not the only people requested. Multiple agents stand around the office, it's one way glass walls watching over other agents working. A large oval table sits in the centre of the room, each chair space having a laptop screwed onto the table.

Some of the more lazier agents have already sat down, while many still stand waiting for authorisation from Director Nick Fury who stands at the end of the table, his back to us as he stares at another eagle symbol on the wall. That's when I notice that Phil is standing next to him, his eyes glued momentarily on me before turning to Fury.

"Sir, Barton and Williams have arrived." He states to Fury. He finally turns to face us, a grim expression on his face, mimicked by Phil in the corner.

"Good, then we can begin." He signals for us to take our seats, we all comply and wait for him to speak. Me and Clint sit on the left row, practically a chair space away from Fury while the other agents sit farther back. Fury leans his hands against the table, contemplating what he is about to tell us.

"On the 3rd November 1994, me and many agents such as Coulson here, infiltrated St Peter's Hospital for the mentally ill." My mind stops working as fear attacks it, making my body shiver like I'm extremely cold. Phil notices this immediately, but waits for me to make eye contact with him before he mouths 'its okay, stay calm' I try to do as he asks, but find it difficult because I know where this speech is going.

"S.H.I.E.L.D believed that Dr George Romero, a high achieved doctor in the hospital, was using alien technology for his own creations. A machine was built by Romero and was continued to be tested on victims, the number is unknown. However, when Agent Coulson arrived in his lab the machine was destroyed and were many of his documents. Little did we know that S.H.I.E.L.D would gain a new member." Fury winks in my direction, making many agents stance at me before moving back to Fury.

"Even though many documents were destroyed, a few were recovered and S.H.I.E.L.D was able to piece together what Romero was planning, which was to use the technology to control the human brain." He pauses, keeping everyone's attention on him, the next part of his speech important for the mission ahead.

"Romero had found a way to use his machine to not only control the human brain, but also to project their worst fears into reality. This information would then explain why our agents on that mission were ambushed by zombie patients, as the machine's last victim had such a powerful connection with it, that they projected not only one fear, but multiple ones across the hospital."

He pauses again, everyone now focusing on me intently, making me ever more nervous as I remember the memories, mostly the ones where Emily was visible in the corner of my vision, just before Dr Romero would start the machine.

Fury pushes a few buttons on his own laptop, this then making photos of a man and a woman appear across all the screens in the room.

The woman hiding a mass of blonde hair under a grey bobble hat, average weight but exceedingly tall. The man looked extremely muscled, like those WWE wrestlers, but his head was slightly too small for his body. Both looked surspious, even in the photostats taken by security cameras.

"New information states that these two people are leaders in a special organisations, that collects alien technology in a quest to rule the world." Even though this sounds ludicrous, nobody laughs or chuckles, seeing the serious face of Director Fury. "We believe, that they have entered St Peter's Hospital, and re-built the machine." Everyone is either shocked or curious as to what Fury wishes from the agents after he's given this information.

"No, that's impossible." I say hysterically, literally jumping out of my seat, unable to sit still any longer. To my sudden action, Fury stands up straight, his leather jacket squeaking from the motion.

"I understand that this information is difficult for you Williams, but the machine-"

"I saw the machine explode with my own eyes. I'm telling you that nobody can repair it." I interrupt him, earning me silent gasps from the other agents while Clint nods with the admiration that he showed earlier. Phil steps forward and whispers to Fury, so only Fury, me and Clint can hear.

"Sir, shall I escort Miss Williams outside to calm down?" He asks, but I can tell that Fury knows I wouldn't comply if he did try to. He shakes his head, and Phil moves back to his original position in the corner.

Fury now sits on the edge of the table, clearly unable to stay in one position long like me. His eye patch I find slightly distracting, but I try my hardest to keep eye contact with him. Proving him and myself that what I say is true, and that he will not persuade me otherwise.

"Williams, the information we have is reliable, the machine has been re-built. S.H.I.E.L.D wishes to send a team of agents to stop this organisation from using the machine and to finally destroy it so no-one can use it again." I can hear his question in his tone, but I'm not going to accept it.

"It would be a waste of time, because the machine isn't fucking repaired." I almost shout, not caring if the agents outside the room can hear me. Fury studies for a long time, searching for a glimmer of an answer in my eyes, but I refuse point blank to what he is asking from me.

"Williams...you know that hospital inside out, if anyone can get a team to the labs without them knowing, it's you and you alone. If there was another way, I would choose it, you have become a concrete member of S.H.I.E.L.D and I believe if you choose, you could become an agent within a year or less. I'm asking you, to lead a team into the hospital, and stop what happened to you happening to anyone else." He finishes, leaving me almost unable to say no. my brain tells me to say no, but in my heart, I know I want to say yes.

"Under one condition...Agent Barton stops calling me squirt." A reasonable request, that makes Fury wear an extremely rare smirk.

* * *

**think I missed a few things out when I re-wrote it, but nothing important. I'll try and upload tomorrow depending on what's happening, might upload every other day now, depends. Bye for now!**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	7. Chapter 7

**I know late again, and it isn't the best chapter but Ive had things happening recently, kinda put me off writing for a bit. The next part will be less dull, at least I hope so.**

**thank you EdithOfGames for being the first reviewer of this story, wasn't sure if anyone was actually i enjoying it XD. **

**This song I believe fits Zoey's and romero's Twisted sort of relationship...thing. It even has nightmare in the title! **

**I remember hearing this song on a dr crane/Amy (i was bored and looked at different crossovers) youtube video a while back but didn't know the band...finally found it.**

**no spoilers in this chapter.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_You should have known,  
The price of evil,  
And it hurts to know,  
That you belong here, yeah,  
Ooh, it's your fuckin' nightmare,_

_Avenged Sevenfold ~ Nightmare_

* * *

The past comes back to haunt: part two

It is clear from the moment our newly formed team crawls into the car (leased from S.H.I.E.L.D), that its going to be a long day. Phil is the driver of the sleek black car, him being the oldest agent in the car (though he never actually reveals his age).

An unfamiliar agent sits next to him in the passenger seat, her long red hair popping up from above the the chair's headrest. I'm seated behind her, slightly weary as her name hasn't been mentioned at all since her arrival on the waiting area outside S.H.I.E.L.D, never even hearing her name being rumoured around the base.

Clint sits in the middle, though he seems oddly uncomfortable. His arms are crossed over his chest as he watches the road ahead of us. He reminds me of that child who always asks "are we there yet?" every five seconds, which amuses me for all of five minutes as paranoia catches me again.

Another unknown agent sitting next to him, but I believe her name is Maria Hill since she is the same clearance level as Phil. Without sounding mean, I'm more comfortable with Clint next to me and Phil easily seen in my perreferral vision, keeping my fear from excelerating too fast.

Every minute passes exceedingly slowly, which only brings me to become more fearful. This slow time lets my mind remember the moments I've managed to lock away, never being able to erase them, but keeping them from burning into my soul like a scar.

The dazzling sun finally begins its descent as we drive towards the gates of hell, becoming angry red and orange lines intermixed to create the horizon. The frosty night edging ever closer, I secretly hope it isn't night until we are inside the hospital, remembering the shadows chasing me when Phil had first helped me step into the fresh air. The first time I had rejoined the world.

I can't help but glance at him every so often, his eyes meeting mine in the rear view mirror. My daunting towards finding myself in front of the large hospital again, mimicked by him as he also remembers the dreaded place.

Before long we have turned off the motorway and driving along an almost deserted country road, the rocks putting extra pressure onto the car's suspension. The gushing wind that had whistled passed the car are now silent, projecting everyone's tension out of proportion.

I keep staring out the window, hoping for the glance of a familiar building (other than the hospital) as it will determine how far away we are from our destination.

"How much longer will it take to this hospital?" I don't realise that the question is directed at me until the unnamed agent turns her head to face me. Her features are noticeable as slightly Russian (a mission that Phil begrudgingly let me go to, this one in the middle of Belarus). She stares at me with a mixture of curiosity and a slight understanding aura, which surprises me.

Just as she asks the question; I see in the corner of my eye, the house I was waiting for. I don't need to look at it, I remember the grey boards that piled up to create the exterior of the mansion like building. The two iron-like doors with its rusted handles, and then the chipped cellar door that swung open to reveal the laundry room.

That is how I found myself thrown into the nightmarish world Dr Romero had made, all of it focused around this one house, even the hospital didn't share the depressive atmosphere the house created.

"About an hour, depending on how slow Phil plans on driving." I try to deflect the tension with humour, but only Clint strains a grunt, then it is quiet again. Getting her answer, the agent turns her head back to its original position, but I haven't finished talking to her yet.

"I never caught your name." I state, hoping she would fill in the blank. Agent Hill almost glares a disgusted look at her, which I don't understand why. The agent keeps her head straight, I would say she was stiff but she sighs before revealing the mystery.

"Natasha Romanoff. I would say its a pleasure to finally meet you Williams, as Agent Barton is always mentioning you. But under these circumstances I don't think it's appropriate." She only has a slight Russian accent, most of it filled with American.

I can tell she is very much like Clint: stiff, blank, born assassin (judging by how hard she finds to keep still, same with Clint as they are both used to constant running into near death missions.) but I can tell that there is no humour to her at all, at least Clint does have his own unique humour.

"Why did you agree to this mission?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation going as I count down the minutes until we arrive at the double doors of the hospital. However, Phil has other ideas as he speaks before Agent Romanoff can even breathe a word.

"Zoey, I don't think Agent Romanoff signed up for the questions." He side glances at me as he speaks, before returning his eyes back onto the road.

I bite my tongue to try and stifle the words that want to spill off my tongue. My eyes move to stare outside the window again, waiting for the inevitable horizon to change into a building that over shadows the canopy growing about it.

"I'm _sorry_, I didn't realise that asking questions was forbidden." I finally whisper harshly, unable to hide it inside anymore. Nobody comments on my words, but there is defiantly a change in atmosphere in the car.

"Zoey I know you're scared, but you can't take it out on Agent Coulson." Clint fills in the silence, making me almost glare at him.

"I think I'm at least entitled to be scared; I don't even want to be here, I just want it to be over." I argue back at him, the truth being that I am terrified. Phil doesn't seem overly fazed by the outburst, and carries on driving as if I'd never said it. Clint doesn't try to intervene again and focuses purely on the road ahead. As I turn my head out towards the window yet again, I find that Clint actually didn't call me squirt this time, he had stuck to my request.

I feel guilty, treating Phil so poorly after everything he's done for me, the same with Clint.

"I'm sorry, I just don't want to remember." I speak truthfully, sensing that everyone can smell my fear. Phil glances in the rear view mirror, a tight smile on his face.

"I know Zoey, I know." He reassures me. Agent Hill is the only person who hasn't spoken, she's almost like a ghost that no one takes any notice of, like an assistant that everyone looks over.

I know that feeling, every school that I've been kicked out of has tried multiple times to forget that I ever attended. Most have forgotten me, while others are still repairing the damage I had caused.

I close my eyes, feeling my seat rattle with the car's poorly designed suspension. The fabric itches against my skin, reminding me of wooly jumpers you get for christmas (I've seen in tv shows, mostly ones knitted by elderly grandmothers). I focus on the last words Fury had told me before our team began the long journey.

_**"If you have no other option, no other way of saving yourself or your team...I give you permission to use your abilities." **_

* * *

The hospital is exactly how I remember it, if slightly more rundown. The broken windows, thousands of them lined up in rows from the ground floor to the very top floor just below the roof. The wonky sign that used to illuminate the hospital's name with red neon lights, is battered with most of the pieces smashed on the floor.

As predicted, trees and overgrown bushes engulf the surrounding areas of the hospital, the large canopy clawing its way through every crack in the exterior walls.

The night air makes every movement be shadowed onto the floor, adding a paranormal effect to the hospital, which is extremely ironic to me. As I take in the feeling of abandonment and neglect that is given off by the talk building, I can't help but taste the energy filtering through the air.

I get dizzy as the over powering energy fills my mind, the experience I haven't felt for over three years. Phil walks up to me, placing his gun in a holster on his belt as he does so. He surprises me with his presence just behind me, whispering into my ear.

"You okay?" He asks. I nod my head, only lying a little bit.

"Yeah I'm fine. But one thing is certain, the machine is working." I whisper back, but Agent Hill managed to hear me as she clips a barrel of bullets into her own gun.

"How do you know from here?" Another round of questions, and Phil has a go at me for asking too many questions.

"Because I am part of the machine. You heard what Fury said, the last victim had such a powerful connection with the machine, their worst fears were brought into reality across the hospital. My abilities are stronger when I'm around the machine, but it also makes them harder to control. So I have to be careful and not get too close to the machine." I say, feeling a lump in my throat as I speak, never taking my eyes off the broken windows.

I almost pray that Emily will appear in one of them, reassuring me that I am not alone, that she will protect me like before.

She never appears.

"What makes you say that?" It is now Clint who asks the questions, the zip noise his bow makes when he unsheathes it.

"Well, the last time I got too close to the machine...I created zombie patients that roamed through the hospital, like a movie I watched when I was a kid. If I'm right, then technically I can still hack into the machine and do the same thing again. Which is what I'm trying to avoid." I sound too much like a leader, and it annoys me as I don't want to be the leader.

Phil comes to my rescue and instructs everyone on what the protocol for the mission is, saying how a back up team is on hand if things get too messy, though I strongly doubt they will make much of a difference if it goes wrong.

Eventually, we calmly make a steady pace towards the hospital's double doors. We prepare for guards to be on the doors, waiting to alert the leaders of our ambush, but there is no one there.

Everyone is more worried about the organisation itself, I'm more worried about what creatures of my nightmares will come back to haunt me. Hoping that the machine will be merciful...doubtful.

* * *

**As promised next chapter will have the actual mission and Zoey returning to her nightmares mwuhahahah! Yep I'm evil to my OCs...**

**anyway, bye for now, please review.**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	8. Chapter 8

**I know late again, but I've had to deal with some family shiz...and kinda put off writing for a little bit.**

**i think there will only be one more part after this. I'm going to do a loki one next, I've wanted to write him so bad! XD**

**thanks to Amy for writing a review, means a lot thank you!**

**warnings: strong language, and slight spoilers for nightmare house 2..but only slightly.**

**as for the song, I believe Emily and Zoey have this sort of relationship as echo and shadow...wonder if you can figure it out...**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_Cause my echo, echo,_

_Is the only voice coming back,_

_Shadow, shadow,_

_Is the only friend that I h__ave,_

_listen, listen,_

_I would take a whisper if, that's all you had to give,_

_But it isn't, is it?_

_You could come and save me,_

_and try to chase the crazy right out of my he__ad,_

_Jason Walker ~ Echo _

* * *

The past comes back to haunt: part three

Just like the exterior of the door, the reception is also empty. Everyone takes this as a bad signal, a trap that we have willingly walked into.

The smell of this deselect place is one I remember from what feels like a life time ago, not three years. The reception area is the scene just like before, eerie thin vapour hanging over the place. Waiting chairs covered with dust and a sheet of mould. A single rusted old wheelchair lying on its side in the centre of the reception, left abandoned with specks of dried red splattered here and there.

The reception desk itself is slightly burnt from fire that had sprouted up during my time in this place. Scattered patient's information and other documents no longer lie abandoned on the floor. The grey wallpaper even greyer then before, the plastic flooring having large footprints in the congregated dust.

As soon as my feet step back inside this place, the energy surge pulls me forward, towards the place the machine is being held. I can taste the death, the screams not only produced by my own lungs...but by the other victims of the beast called George Romero.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, bringing my mind back to the present. Agent Romanoff clips a roll of bullets into a hand gun and passes it to me, spinning the gun until the handle faces me. I stare blankly at her, only ever having shooting practice once, which didn't end well.

"I don't need that, I can't shoot straight to save my life." I say, but her hand never falters with the gun.

"You may not like it, but this gun _could_ save your life...just take it." She replies with a tone of knowledge. I gingerly take it, the cold metal foreign in my fingertips. I push the gun Into the rim of my jeans, making sure it won't fall out but also at easy reach.

"Thank you." I can tell that Phil doesn't like the idea of me carrying a gun, but he doesn't argue, clearly knowing that what Agent Romanoff had said was true. Everyone is staring at me now, obviously looking for me to lead the way, Agent Hill wears a disgusted look as she takes the reception room in, but this room is only just the beginning.

"Did the agent manage to get a location of where the machine was being held.?" I ask, though i have my own suspicions of where they would put it.

"They had said somewhere in the lower levels, but nothing more precise than that." Agent Hill answers, to which my judgment is correct.

"If that's true, they've likely put it down in the storage levels, to get to there we will need to climb through a few vents." I state, picking scenes out of my memory of the layout of the hospital, and which doors and areas were boarded up.

"Vents? We're not exactly small like you squirt." Clint pipes in, already breaking his agreement, but right now I couldn't care less.

"Look, I made hundreds of dead zombies roam everywhere in here. So, Romero tried to board places up as a sort of barricade against them. It then made his escape harder, until there was no way of getting outside safely without being eaten to death." I tell him, slightly annoyed by the fact that they are questioning my judgement, considering that is the only reason why I'm here.

Clint doesn't answer back, understanding why vents are the main way of getting around now. Agent Romanoff just nods her head, Phil and agent Hill just decide to agree with me. With the introductions over, Phil walks up to me, noticing how I can't keep my eyes from darting into corners of the room.

"Its going to be okay. I'll lead the way as far forward as I remember, or you can make a quicker assumption of the route, then you can take over." He compromises, which I nod my appreciation of his gesture.

I'm not scared just yet, I'm waiting for her to appear. I know she is still here...I can sense her just like the machine. She was created by the machine, not a ghost or a spirit, but a memory I or Romero must have locked away, still unable to find a name to fit the face. I chose Emily just because I loved the name as a child, finding it so innocent and delicate to say.

She never appears.

Phil leads the way through another set of double doors across the reception. This time two men stand with their backs to the doors, about a metre away from said door. Both look burly with their cut off jeans and band merchandise styled t-shirts...and S.H.I.E.L.D saw this organisation as threatening?

"Fuckin' hell it's cold in 'ere. Why are we here anyway?" The one on the left asks his partner, shivering for emphasise of his words.

"Because the boss got tipped off that S.H.I.E.L.D was sending agents, we gotta tell them if we see 'em." The one on the right relies, sounding quite snappy, easily registered as him also being cold.

"I don't like this place, gives me the creeps." The one on the left says absentmindedly.

"If you knew half the stuff that that fucker Romero was doin', you wouldn't be standing 'ere." The other one replies again, getting more agitated by the minute.

"Why, what he do?" Another question, this man obviously just here for muscle damage.

"Apparently his wife left him, he went nuts an' started makin' a machine to control the brain or something. Anyway, he tested the machine on anyone he could get his hands on, homeless, mentally ill, kids, even other doctors he worked with. Sick guy, just sick." He spits on the ground, emphasising his disgust.

"Bitches man, they make any guy go crazy." The one on the left whistles, that being the only thing he could say about his partner's story.

Having enough of the two idiots, both agent Romanoff and Clint open the doors silently, edging closer to the morons until they are close enough to strike. Before either can say a word, both agents put a hand over their mouths and push a pressure point on their necks, they fall with a thud on the ground as both are unconscious in seconds.

"How long will they be out for?" I ask, worried about timing more than anything now, wanting this to be a simple mission without mess ups.

"Don't know, could be an hour, could be more." Romanoff answers first, Clint slightly glaring at her for a reason unknown by me.

"We better get a move on then." Phil says with his usual tight smile that indicates he's joking around a bit. It is removed straight away, him in the zone for this particular mission, remembering this place, just not as severely as I do.

We make our way down the corridor, meeting a few more bodyguards, these slightly more intelligent then the first ones. Just like before, Romanoff and Clint deal with them, this a continuing theme of assault as the areas of the hospital become more recognisable to me. We pass the X-ray machines and MRI scanners pretty swiftly, as if they will suddenly turn on and create noise. Nearly every room as been checked and searched before our arrival, only the canteen and patient rooms are untouched, but I still find myself going to one in particular.

I know this little detour down memory lane will make the mission longer, but I can't just pass this area without stepping inside the fresh-hold. Large gates seen in jails reveal the mentally ill patients dormitories, the rust practically scraping off the iron gates.

This is the first time I've seen a human corpse in a long time, it sits on a chair by the gate controls, all the rotten flesh either eaten or just disengriated. Nobody seems fazed by this corpse, even I don't feel any vomit turning in my stomach, remembering much worse. The gate itself is falling off the hinges, making the patient area an easy access. I quietly speed walk down the corridors, counting the doors as I go.

Without interruption by other bodyguards, I find myself in front of the door that is number twenty-six. I push down on the stiff door handle, the opening gap in the door spurring out smells of uncleanliness. With the door now completely ajar, I find that my room as been untouched by time. On the damp walls are scrawled words done by a mad girl, nail marks encrypted with dried blood.

_**I want my mommy...**_

_**The monsters will get me...**_

_**Gods do not exist...**_

_**Burn in hell spawn of satan!**_

_**LeAvE Me AlOnE!**_

_**lEt mE DiE...LeT Me dIE...DIE!**_

_**SaVE mE eMiLY...**_

The words gradually becoming harder to decipher as madness crawls into the brain of the girl, abandoned in this hell. I can empathise with her, I remember her, I remember her before she went mad.

This girl believed in a greater power, not nessasarily God, but beings seen as gods. Myths a legends a hobby, or more of an obsession depending who saw her with these books of mythology.

Children's toys scatter the floor, most broken, lying in a pile in a corner of the room covered in damp moss. A single bed with a dry blood pool in the centre, the springs now brown with rust.

I close the door, my mind panicking as long days and nights spent locked in this room fill it. A hand lands on my shoulder, making my body shudder in surprise. I expect to see Phil, but it is Agent Hill who looks at me with concern, breaking her blank expression from before.

"The others went on ahead to clear the area." She states, filling in the question as to why she is the only near me. I gasp for air before I can speak, even my voice revealing my fear.

"I don't know why I had to come back...I-I just had to. It's like...I w-want to remember, why would I want t-to remember? Am I just as much of a m-monster as he was?" I can't breathe now, Agent Hill tries to comfort me by kneeling to my level placing to hands by the sides of my face.

For the first time our eyes meet, directly seeing into each other's, and I can almost see Jodie in them. The way she used to tell me that monsters are real, but that we can't show weakness when around them, we have to face them eventually.

"You listen to me, you are _not_ a monster. Remembering is a way of moving on, and that is what you are doing, right now, moving on." She tells me sternly, just like a mother, the way my mother used to when I would try playing with the cutlery.

"I know you're scared, everyone does, and we are here to support _you_. I may not have known you, but I read your report that was done when you arrived in S.H.I. . All I have to say is you are one brave, lucky little girl. We have to catch up with the others, I won't speak a word of this, if you want?" I nod my head in between her hands, she lets me go and we rush back to the rest of our team.

* * *

We find them near the labs, a trail of fallen men and women around them. None of them ask about what had happened in our absence, and neither did we ask them the same question.

Phil gives me the signal that it is up to me now, being as he only knows the labs from when he saved me. Like a switch turning on, I will my mind to form an image of the route quickest to the storage area, and only one place makes me nervous.

"We have to go through the morgue, a vent access is hidden behind a wood board at the operating table, it will get us into one of the storage garages." I tell them, before heading off in the direction of the morgue.

* * *

We dart down every corridor, more people working for the organisation trying to get in our way. I'm surprised the alarm hasn't been set off yet, our time in this hospital coming up to one whole hour. The first idiotic guards must have woken up by now, so why are we still able to ambush them?

I push the question to the back if my mind, focusing wholly on getting to the morgue. The metal door brings the apprehension I was waiting for, lumbering it open as it squeaks in protest.

The cold air catching all of us off-guard as crystallised fog forms in our breathing. The grey walls lined with rows of oven shaped doors, each one once holding a corpse in one moment in time. Some half open, swinging on its hinges with a squeak every so often, like the door only softer.

I let my body guide me to the operating table, the metal shining in the dim light above it, blinking every so often as if its power is slowly draining. My head pounds the closer I get, and soon enough I feel my legs stumble as the pain in my forehead makes the world around me shake. I can just hear faint whispers behind me, one sounding a lot like Phil, but I can't answer.

I still move forward, unable to stop as I see someone lying on the operating table. Suddenly with a loud crash, all the metal ovens smashing open to reveal body bags (filled body bags) fall onto the floor around me. My heartbeat quickens as this scene seems oddly familiar, fresh blood pouring along the floor from the operating table, the dripping sound a lot louder than it should be.

When I finally reach the table, a woman in a blood soaked black dress is lifeless, eyes closed with open stitches over her mouth. As I lean over the table, the cold metal touching my fingers tips. The eyes open. Black orbs of darkness staring at the light, before darting into me.

_**He's coming...**_

I grip the edge of the table tightly as I find it hard to breathe. The woman is not on the table, nor are there any body bags, or sign of a change in the morgue at all. Phil stands beside me, shock and fear in his eyes as he places a warm arm around my shoulder. It isn't until I feel the warmth, that I realise I am shaking.

"It's happening again...the visions." I mutter, keeping the image of the woman locked in my mind, knowing her as Emily. He clamps the arm around me tighter, trying to help me get back into reality from the nightmare house inside my mind.

"She was there...I was right, she's still here." I whisper, repeating the last part another three times like a madman. Phil stares at me with confusion, not understanding what I mean.

"Whose here? Zoey...who did you see?" I never told anyone about her, knowing that no-one would believe me, not even Phil.

I still don't know what she is, a demon, a person forever switching between life and death, someone who had latched onto me as they couldn't let go? This question may never be answered, but I will always remember her as Emily, the woman that kept my mind from falling apart completely...who killed George Romero.

"Another victim like me, she died a long time ago, but for some reason she is trapped here." I lie, partially.

Phil nods his head, before finally letting me go to tell the others that I'm fine. I turn to face them, still gripping to the table with one hand. Clint and Agent Hill share a look of mild concern, hiding their true emotions is in their job description. However, Agent Romanoff stares at me, clearly seeing through my lies so easily, yet she doesn't make a comment.

Unable to stay in this place any longer, I stumble towards the wooden board and haul it out the way to reveal the vent. The screws that hold it in place a so rusted that I can just tear the metal off, revealing a quite compacted space, just big enough for Phil and Clint not to get stuck.

"Anyone with claustrophobia, speak now." Clint says with a sigh, clearly not liking this vent movement idea. The women just glare at him, I volunteer myself to go first, followed closely by Agent Romanoff. The metal surrounding us as soon as we enter, crawling along slowly as we try not to bang our heads against the ceiling metal.

Grunts come from the back of our line, which I assume to be Clint or Phil, likely Phil.

"You alright grandad?" I joke, feeling like myself again. A few more grunts before he replies to my comment.

"Keep quite Zoey, don't want alert the enemy." He says, but I can tell by his tone that he's actually saying 'don't call me grandad again, I'm not that old' which makes a smile form on my face.

We quickly come to a corner, having to manuver my body to turn to the side without stretching anything. It hurts, my arms aching from the amount I've used them within five minutes. I warn everyone else of the turning, before feeling a flake like texture under my hand. More dried blood, I'm already getting sick of this stuff.

Multiple vent openings we have to pass over, some showing men walking down a corridor, while others show more skeletons and blown lights.

I'm just about to turn another corner, when one of the openings falls open, taking me with it. I feel Agent Romanoff try to grab my leg with lightening speed, but I've already fallen through, hanging upside down. Blood rushes to my brain in this position, and very soon I can hear it thumping in my ears.

I tell her to let go, knowing I can't pull myself back up before someone walks past. She does let go, and I fall to the cement floor with a small thud. The gun drops and clatters to the ground next to me, luckily never going off. I grab it and place in the rim of my jeans again.

I look up, Agent Romanoff waiting for me to speak.

"Keep going, the storage isn't too far now. I'll catch up in a little while, hopefully this organisation has opened some of the doors." I whisper, Agent Romanoff doesn't look best pleased with this idea, but agrees and carries on along the vent. I don't wait for the others to pass over, I'm already walking down the corridor, clearly into the deeper areas of the hospital.

This area is more like a construction making building, rows of metal frames filled with different sized boxes. It's like a maze, only ending in one place. Only a few of the lights work down here, so I'm forced to walk in near complete darkness. Thinking better of it, I pull my gun out and keep a finger near the trigger.

I don't hear footsteps, but I swear I can hear the machine's hum coming from nearby. I just put this down as my connection to the machine, means my mind is just magnifying the sound. As I think this, one of the lights explode above, turning the area even darker.

Whispers of voices surround me, all of them talking at once. I ignore them, the voices of the dead just playing the only game they know...scaring the living.

Eventually the whispers get louder, more of them joining in the game. I can't stand it any longer, all of them making my brain ache.

"Just shut up, how am I supposed to get to the machine if you're whispering in my ear every five seconds?" It's rhetorical, and many of the voices die into silence...except one.

_**He's coming...**_

Emily, it wasn't just a flashback, she really is still trapped here. I follow her voice, dodging around the metal frames freely. And then she stops, so abruptly that I wonder if she is struggling to maintain her force in reality.

But I'm wrong, so very wrong.

A man appears in front of me, starling both of us in the process. He snatches the gun out of my hand before I can react, going to point it at me. I swiftly grab it and twist my body out of firing range, as expected it goes off, the bullet flying off somewhere. I use my other arm to elbow to man in the gut, he grunts in pain and releases the gun into my hand briefly.

I underestimate his strength. He yanks the gun, only for it to disappear underneath one of the metal frames, lost from either of us.

He pushes me onto the ground and I slide a few metres away along the floor. He cracks his knuckles, eyeing me up, his eyes full of evil intentions.

"Come here little fly, the spider wants a bite." He chuckles sinisterly.

I focus my mind on forming an image of electricity in my hand, and there it appears in my hand. The man is dumbfounded, watching the blue orb, memorised entirely. I release the energy, and it targets the man straight into his chest. The explosion of the impact making him fly and smash into the wall behind him, his unconscious body falling to the ground.

"Who's the little fly now." I say in between breaths.

* * *

**you like the little quote there? Nightmare house? Ah well, I tried. As said it will be the last part next time. Really liking this story so far, so I won't stop writing this one.**

**also if you haven't already, check Out yamimash on YouTube. He's a British YouTuber who did a play through of nightmare house 2, I recommend him as he's funny to watch, but gets scared easily XD.**

**Until next time, please review!**

**bye,**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	9. Chapter 9

**The last part...this took forever to write. I don't know why it took so long, but I hope you really enjoy it.**

**Not really any spoilers in this one.**

**i tweaked the story for NH2 to fit what I wanted from it.**

**DISCLAIMER: i do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_And if I only could,_

_Make a deal with God,_

_And get him to swap our places,_

_Be running up that road,_

_Be running up that hill,_

_Be running up that building._

_If I only could, __oh..._

_Kate Bush ~ Running up that hill_

* * *

Past comes back to haunt: part four

I meet up with everyone else by a large elevator door. I don't plan on mentioning my encounter, nor do I mention the use of my abilities. Apparently their trip through the vents wasn't as event less either, Phil and Clint almost getting jammed in the narrower corners. I stifle a smirk, the image too funny in my mind.

Turning back to the elevator door, I hope it is still working, this being the easiest way down below the hospital. We all step inside, Phil and Clint standing at the back, while Romanoff, Hill and me stand in front, our more slender frames fitting side by side. I press the lowest button, only for it to light up for a second before revealing a key shaped lock.

"Great, the old fashioned key for the the villain's lair...Just what we need." Clint comments with slight annoyance, obviously pissed from nearly being stuck in a vent.

"What's wrong with old fashioned? Sometimes we need a little old fashioned." Phil counters, to which a smile quivers on my face. Me being the closest to the buttons, I raise my right hand, focusing on the key hole. Everyone goes quiet as I do this, as not to break my concentration.

A small click and the key hole has turned, the elevator descending into the darkness below. The light bulb above us blinks, only to pop when we get half way down to our destination. But nobody even flinches at this, now all focus is on the machine, and destroying it for good.

"Quick thinking, since when have you been able to do that squirt?" Clint asks, filling the silence.

"Since Phil tried to ground me in my room, it seemed learning how to unlock a door was top propriety." I answer, feeling slightly smug as I see Phil shake his head in the reflection in front of me. I'm lucky it actually worked, my skills not exactly the most reliable in not exploding in my face.

"That means I will have to tell Director Fury to create a room in which you can't unlock." Phil says from behind me, that smile on his face again.

"What, like a cage?" I say jokingly "telltale." Childishness isn't in my nature...must be my nerves.

* * *

Eventually we reach the lowest level, the doors opening with a squeak. The surrounding area one that looks as if someone had lived here, long ago. Computerised equipment stands in a corner, slightly above the ground by a set of short metal steps. The computers hum as the images of areas in the hospital appear on the screens, obviously by hidden security cameras.

However, I don't initially start walking in that direction. My head cocks to look into a separate corner, one that does look like a living area. A single bed with rusted metal frames, cooking oven and a fridge compacted into one small space. A huge desk with large files piled high atop it, a notice board with pinned photographs covering it.

This is where I walk,this place being the only part of the hospital I have never seen before.

My throat becomes dry as I stare at the photographs, most of them are pictures of battered victims, many of them just skin and bone.

one in particular catches my eye, this one seeming so ordinary from a distance. A man and a woman, the woman having long brown hair like my own, her eyes sparkling with joy as she places a hand over a bump on her man, short shaven brown hair and tinted glasses.

I know my mother, and I know him as George Romero...but it can't be.

I gently peel the photo off the pin, staring at the happy couple with a mix of horror and disbelief. Surely he can't be, he wouldn't have done those things if he was...or he didn't know.

I can't breathe, the photo shaking in my fingers. Mom had told me my dad had been a low life with not a penny to his name, but she loved him for his humour and seemingly nonjudgmental looks that he had given her when they had first met. It can't surely be the same man, Romero was a monster, not my _father_.

I tear the photo in half, putting my mother's piece in my pocket as a sentimental souvenir. I keep the discovery locked in the back of my mind, I know it will tear into me once I'm miles away from the hospital. For now, I can just bear to let it slither in my mind.

My eyes skim over the documents, my name appearing on most of them in big nostalgic black letters.

A particular one sits at the top, a bulging top secret report done by a government, one that I don't recognise. Before I can pull it off the large pile, a whirl of robotic noise escapes from the computer area. A metal sheet that had occupied a large metal rectangle, now slid upwards to reveal a clear glass window.

Romanoff and Hill are the first to investigate, their eyes leaning to look down below the window. In a split second, screaming echoes from below us, then simultaneously a body is thrown into the glass. Everyone jumps out of the way, glass shards showering everywhere.

I swiftly leave he sanctuary of the small living area, crouching along the floor to reach the body. When I do reach it, I see that it is the man in the Police photograph shown by Director Fury, the leader of the organisation. His bruised body is covered in slash marks from the shards, breathing heavy and I can hear crumpled bones shifting when he does.

I can't seem to move, too memorised by the dying man in front of me. His raspy breathing becoming hoarser by the second, dilated pupils staring at me with desperate hope.

I bite the inside of my cheeks, loathing flaming in my eyes. This sudden growing anger not even directed at the man in front of me, just his timing couldn't have been any worse. I lean over him, looking as menacing as I can muster.

"How did you find this place?" I whisper, the whisper sounding way too sweet. His body shakes violently as it shuts down. He is just able to shake his head. I lean closer, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the broken ribs in my fingers.

"_Who_ told you what happened here?" I say slightly louder, the urge to just press down and make him scream, sounds too appealing. I feel his heartbeat pump under my hand, pain clearly engraved on his face. I can see he's contemplating whether he should tell me or not, even in his last minutes.

"...L-Lucy found notes...came here...went crazy...built a machine...He told her..." Blood spits out of his mouth, internal bleeding piling up grotesquely. I can't hold it in any longer.

I push down sharply and a gargle escapes his blood-soaked lips. The relishing sound of fear makes revenge all the more sweeter, the time I spent held down and tortured until sanity was just another dream...finally inflicting a spec of that pain onto someone else, it excites but also horrifies me.

I release by hand, now feeling everyone's eyes watching me intently. The anger dissolves rapidly, leaving me breathing heavily like the man before. My hand lifts away from his chest, a bloody handprint turning to face me and bile rises in my throat.

"Who told her? Give me a name...give me the name!" I say hysterically as a fight back painful tears. The man stares at me, no anger or fear now, just mercy.

"R-Romero..." He smiles evilly, before his facial expression softens into a lifeless calm, eyes distant.

My bloodied hand feels for the gun on my waist. A quick spark of a suicidal decision and I'm running towards a metal door placed by the window. Phil tries to grab me but I dodge him, set on finishing this once and for all. Slipping through the door, I lock it behind me, a metal walkway leading down to the large basement.

Clanking under my feet as I walk along this walkway towards a staircase. When I hit these stairs, I'm met with the sight of a giant metal sphere. The sphere hangs in the centre of four arched coils, chains connecting the four coils to the sphere.

The familiar blue glow swirling around the sphere, but it also forms a protective dome around the whole machine, obviously if anyone tries to get too close they die.

I power walk towards the machine, only stopping when I reach the edge of the dome, eyes glaring directly into the sphere. I exhale loudly, knowing full well that this is it...my nightmares are now a reality, again.

"No more hiding...I _know_ you're here." I shout, spinning in a circle to catch a glimpse of a grey lab coat. My eyes glance at the window, the whole team watching me, but none try to help me.

_This is it...just me and him._ An inner voice tells me, to which I wholly agree on.

"Come on you coward! You wanted me, here I am." I raise my hands in the air, the gun still securely locked in my fingers.

This game of his is boring me now, we both know one of us is going to die tonight...and I'm going to fight until my last breath.

"Welcome home Miss Williams." There it is, I spin on my heels and point the gun at none other than Dr George Romero. His hair cut short like in the photograph, glasses still covering his eyes, and yet the same monster I remember. A smile is stitched onto his face, but brown eyes reveal the hatred of me disrupting his plans.

"My how you've grown, likely wouldn't have recognised you without that mouth of yours." He speaks as if this is a reunion of old friends, I play along, my own smirk plastered onto my face.

"I would've said the same thing about you. Had hoped you were dead, but life is full of disappointments." I reply with a hint of sarcasm as I keep the gun aimed at his head. He chuckles at me, finding the gun amusing.

"Come now Zoey, you and I both know you won't kill me." A knowing eyebrow twitches as he says this, his psychopathic glow no longer so visible, but I can still sense it.

"How do you know? It's been three long years, I've grown, I could shoot and all of this would be over." I say triumphantly, however, he can see the hesitation on my trigger finger. He proceeds to walk around me, making me turn my body with him to keep him in eye line.

"You know that won't do any good. If a simple shot to the head is all it takes to kill the dead, don't you think I would have done it to Emily?" He's got me, licking my lips as I see the gun shaking in my hands.

"I know Emily is still here, and I know you've been communicating with her." He stops walking, shifting to look at me with fake sympathy.

"You put all that trust and faith into her...and you don't even know who she is? Would you like to?" He asks, but I can tell by his face that he's going to tell me anyway, no matter what I say. He carries on pacing around me, dizziness blurring my vision slightly.

"I'm assuming you figured it out?" I nod my head stiffly, and he smiles "good, that will make this much easier. Before I had met your mother, I had been in a woeful marriage, the only precious thing coming out of it was a beautiful baby girl. My wife left me with the baby, no experience at being an only parent, work pulling me in everyday...a bloody nightmare." He rants on, my mind shouting to just shoot him now, but I'm too curious for my own good.

"When she got a little older, I brought her here to the hospital and let her watch while I worked. I didn't let her see the surgery, oh no, what type of father would that make me?"

A rhetorical question, but I cock my head with a raised eyebrow.

"She got very ill, practically living in the hospital. My research was in its minor work, but her illness pushed me forward, trying to find a permeant cure. Gradually she became more depressed, and eventually she committed suicide by jumping out of her ward window." He paused, an actual look of sadness and pain on his face.

"Emily was my daughter, she knew this hospital inside out, like you. I met your mother in a terrible state, she helped me find my way and continue to build the machine and hopefully one day to be able to bring her back from death's door." He stops turning, and stops his story.

"Emily is my step-sister, which would explain the connection I have with her." I say aloud, the conclusion I had formed from his short tale. He's glaring at me now, no more sadness at the loss of his daughter, just hatred towards me.

"Story time's over, daddy has had enough now." I gulp down the shiver that tingles within me as he says these words.

an inhuman screeching appears from the machine. Before I can see what it is, a large creature rushes towards me, hunched over like an elderly human but its teeth are sharp like a sharks. No hair on this monstrosity, just peach toned skin with patches of rotten flesh and wrinkled lines all over its deformed skin.

I react swiftly, firing two shots at its skull. The second one makes the hit. The creature cries out in agony before keeling over at my feet.

Once the shock wears off, I raise my gun to where Romero is...was. He's disappeared, leaving me alone with the machine and these monsters.

I focus below the machine, knowing the creatures will form there. As predicted, a screech closely followed by another creature which gallops towards me. Only one shot is fired this time, the creature falling flat onto the floor.

Two shots left, must use them wisely.

If my mind wasn't pulsing harshly, I would be able to focus more. It's like I said to Phil, I can't get too close to the machine or bad things will happen.

I feel my mind try to form a picture, this being hundreds of these creatures sprinting towards me. I force myself from falling into this scene. It's too much. The creatures get closer and closer until they can practically pounce onto me. A simultaneous cry echoes loudly as all the creatures die.

Emily strides towards me, stepping over the creatures...a single hand out stretched for me to take.

_**End this...**_

I'm out of the vision. Just in time to see a creature leap into the air, aiming for my throat. The shot is fired and hits home, I quickly step out of the way of the falling monster, the thud loud in my ears.

One shot left.

I choose this time to weigh up my options. I can't stop Romero and destroy the machine with one bullet. I need to do both, with one the other will follow.

Time slows down around me, my eyes glancing at the window. Phil can't bear to watch me fight alone, trying to shake off Clint as he tries to hold him down. Clint honestly isn't using all his strength, wanting someone to help me, our training sessions earning a strong bond between us. Maria is still wearing that plain expression, but she's gripping tightly to the table in front of the window, itching to just take a shot at the creatures with me. Then it leaves Romanoff, arms crossed over her chest, watching my every move, noting my mistakes. To her, this looks like a training exercise, not a life or death situation.

I make my decision, turning my eyes back onto the sphere.

"FIGMO" I say to myself, dropping the gun. Within seconds to flaming blue orbs are in my hands, the machine powering my abilities over the scale.

I hope this works, I mean, you can't protect against yourself can you? The machine and I are the same, part of it lives within in me, ever since that day Emily finally put a stop to Romero.

With utter determination, I fire both orbs at the centre of the sphere. It creates a pulsing shock wave as it passes softly through the dome, hitting the metal sphere perfectly. I form another two orbs, fire them, the shock wave becoming more powerful as it nearly knocks me off my feet.

Final chance.

Two more orbs, as soon as these hit the machine, it explodes. I'm forced backwards, ending up lying on the floor with bruises aching all over my body. The explosion is satisfying, no remanance of the machine except for the coils.

I'm not going to celebrate just yet, still one last person to deal with. As I think this, I'm picked up by an unseen force. I'm twisted around to face Romero, eyes black with loathing.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." He spits at me with bared yellow teeth. I glare at him, before smiling triumphantly.

"Karma's a bitch ain't it?" Before he can rip my heart out of my chest, an arrow flies straight into his forehead. I'm dropped onto the floor, and I have just enough time to cover myself as I hear beeping coming from the arrow.

Another explosion, and a splatter of organs and blood, the blood spraying all over me. I lift my head out of my sanctuary, only to see Clint looking down at me, his bow in his hands.

Slowly I stand up, every part of me aching. I stumble slightly, but regain my footing almost immediately, adrenaline pumping through me.

Phil, Romanoff and Maria rush towards us. None of us can speak, and honestly none of us need to. I'm suffocated by hugs, mostly Phil and Maria and I get a rare one from Clint. Romanoff studies me, then reveals a hand for me to shake, I take it, feeling complete for the first time in a long time.

It's not over just yet. I slowly tiptoe to my fallen gun, turning it over in my fingers. Whispers echo around me, she's here. I look up to see the face of my step-sister staring at me, eyes black. But then her image shifts, changes into a more realistic looking girl.

Within minutes, I'm staring at a brown haired, brown eyed girl around the same age as me. Patient garments spotless, a healthy glow radiating off her. Her lips no longer have stray stitches, just lush pink lips that reveal a perfect white teethed smile.

"No matter how many times I say it, no matter how much I try to fix it...I will miss you. All that time I thought you were there to keep me believing, to keep me from losing hope. You were there as my family, you truly cared about me, we _saved_ each other from his insanity. It's finally over...we won." I choke, tears forming in my eyes.

She just smiles at me, the smile so warm and comforting.

And then, quite unexpectingly, she moves forwards and hugs me tightly. All I can do is hug back, fighting back waterfalls that want to stream down my face.

"Never are you alone. I'm always going to be watching over my little sister, I never left before." Her voice is soft and sweet, just like honey. The embrace lasts a lot longer than it should, and I can't tell how this looks to everyone else watching.

"I love you Zoey...and I wish I could go with you." She sobs, because we both know how this will end. The machine may have brought her spirit back, but it can't keep her stable for long, it would be to much for her, too painful.

We finally let go, the gun still in my hand. I raise it to her forehead, shaking in my hands as the waterfalls finally do fall down my face, and Emily's. She's still smiling, even now, at least she can finally rest in peace.

"I will see you again, I promise." I vow, not letting another member of my family be taken away from me.

"Just don't let it be too soon, or I'll have to give you a right telling off." She laughs through the tears, and I find myself smiling with her.

I pull the trigger.

I can't bear to look at her corpse, turning my eyes away. I drop the gun for a second time, crying into my hands. Someone pulls me close to them, trying to shush me as they rest a chin on my head. Phil calms me down, but I can't stop crying.

Death seems to follow me, no matter where I go and who I meet.

Am I cursed?

**I never planned for that bit with the man, iI guess in the end it fitted in to how Zoey can loose control sometimes. Also didn't mean to add that last little bit, but it just seemed to be a tragic end, they had finally stopped the machine.**

**for people wondering what FIGMO means , it's military slang for "fuck it, I've got orders" I don't know why I used it, but it seemed to fit in with what she was about to do. I also found FUBAR which aparantly means "fucked up beyond all recognition" that fits with loki to me XD.**

**I used a few lines from once upon a time and the bbc sherlock, because I love the shows...no other reason other than that.**

**Anyway, hope you liked this. Loki chapter next, can't wait!**

**please review, bye for now,**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	10. Chapter 10

**I realise this is really short, but I've been really ill since Monday, still feel shitty but I knew I had to update this. **

**I did tweak a few sentences in this.**

**warning:spoilers for avengers (but I've assumed everyone has watched it...)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_Monster, How should I feel?_

_Creatures lie here, Looking through the windows_

_I will, Hear their voices_

_I'm a glass child,_

_I am Hannah's regret,_

_monster ~ meg and dia_

* * *

We are our own nightmares...

The Helicarrier has never been so full of people before. That's not necessarily true, there have never been so many superheroes before. I knew why they were here, the Avengers initiative I accidentally came across when hacking S.H.I.E.L.D in my younger years. Though it had been scraped, I had my suspicions that Fury hadn't truly given up on the idea. Still, I knew I would never be part of it since I became S.H.I.E.L.D's number one most wanted person in America when I went down a darker path.

However, aparantly this Loki is more of a threat now, S.H.I.E.L.D trusting me enough to move about the Helicarrier freely.

Part of me decided to keep away from Coulson and the others, knowing full well if I came across Natasha she would actually kill me. They knew I was here, but too preoccupied on stopping Loki from destroying the world.

That's where I'm going now, slipping down the metal corridors to the detention level. Fury hadn't managed to break him, and everyone knew he was one step ahead of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Maybe, this was my chance to prove myself, that I'm not just a monster, that I am the same girl they took in all those years ago. I still despise S.H.I.E.L.D, but I'm not going to let my hatred make innocent people suffer, I am not a monster.

It's not long before I reach the steps that lead around the cage, the one I called home for three months.

I'm extra quiet, not as an element of surprise, but for me to think of counter sentences before the god of mischief spots me. I did do my homework, unlike S.H.I.E.L.D, I actually read the Norse mythology about this so called god.

I wait at the edge of the glass, arms straight at my sides. He's pacing, a death glare on his face. Okay, the guy did look important, his Asgardian clothing of green and black fitting his physique. Long black hair that looks greasy, gross, but I don't think Asgard or where this Loki came from has shampoo.

"Not many people can sneak up on me." His smooth voice echoes from inside the glass, jolting me out of my mind, realising that he's turned to face me. His mischievous smirk catches me off-guard, so used to the stern looks from S.H.I.E.L.D agents and crime bosses alike.

"But you figured I'd come." I reply stiffly, keeping my voice steady as not to sound scared. I'm not scared of him, I'm scared at what he has done to Clint, my friend that taught me most of what I know.

"After, after whatever tortures Fury can concoct. You would appear as a friend, as a palm, and I would cooperate." He smiles at me, to which I just glare at him.

I think he knows my displeasure at working with S.H.I.E.L.D again, but I don't let it quiver me into falling for his tricks.

This is a game, his game, and I'm sure as hell going to step up to his moves.

"I want to know what you've done to agent Barton." I'm straight to the point, I don't want anything to do with the tesseract, that's S.H.I.E.L.D's fight, I want to know my friend is going to survive.

"I'd say I've expanded his mind." He's still wearing that smile, which unnerves me a lot more then it should. I take this pause to take a few steps forward, the metal clicking under my military black boots.

"Once you've won, and you're king of the mountain...what happens to his mind?" I cross my arms over my chest, needing something to distract me away from his eyes, the way they just stare creepily at me. He makes a whistle sound, like a gush of wind blowing out of his mouth.

"Is this love Agent Williams?" He knows my name, he knows my agent name, I'm no longer classed as an agent and to hear it fall from his mouth makes me shudder. But I keep a straight face, taking lessons from Natasha at how to look demeaning...I don't think it's working.

"Love is for children, I owe him." I reply, which is partially true. He saved me from Dr Romero when we had returned, making him explode into blood before he strangled me to death.

he steps backwards, arms raised as he speaks the words I really don't want to hear.

"Tell me." So simple, and yet it sends shivers down my spine and makes vomit rise into my throat. He sits on the plastic bed, the one I woke up on when S.H.I.E.L.D had captured me. I glare for a few seconds, then find an ironic chair sitting lonely by the glass. I sigh, sitting down while still keeping my eyes on Loki. His fingers curling together, as he waits for me to begin my tale.

"Before I was brought to S.H.I.E.L.D, I had had a rough life. Agent Barton trained me, taught me ways to kill people, how to defend myself. He was one of the few people that saw me more than an experiment gone wrong." I've said too much, I can tell by the way Loki's eyes devour me. I find that my own hands lock together, as I remember everything that had happened before S.H.I.E.L.D.

He sits there, watching me so intently, searching for a weak point I don't give so easily. He sees that it care for Barton, and he knows how to use that against me.

"And what would you do, if I vowed to spare him." He says after my silence, I reply quickly, not giving him a chance to watch me squirm.

"Not let you out." I say forcefully, my wall cracking slightly. He slithers through it, leaning forward and chuckling with that smile.

"But I like this." He chuckles again. "Your world hangs in the balance, and you'd bargain for one man." It sounds more like a question. I think about it, wondering if I could, let everyone die for one man. I'd do it for Phil, no question, even if he no longer sees me the way he used to.

"Regimes fall everyday, believe me, I've witnessed it." I remember the times Jodie talked about her missions working with the C.I.A, how corrupt everything was and how easily it could shatter.

"Oh I've heard." He says sinisterly, suggesting that he knows more about me then I would like. I watch him for a second, the way he talks and counters what I say. I can see passed the psychotic exterior, only because I've used this trick myself.

"I can see straight through you." I say aloud, to which the god of mischief suddenly becomes confused.

"What?" The smooth voice asks, masking the terror and anger at my sudden change in subject. I stand, moving as close to the glass as I can.

"Let me guess, daddy issues?" I ask him, and I watch as he glares at me hatefully, I have him now. "That wall you put up, that facade which you use to make people fear you. I've tried it, didn't like it. Because no matter how much you try to act like a villain and a killer, you know it your heart that is not want you want people to see you as. You feel betrayed, abandoned, you wish you had never been born. When you look in that mirror all you see is a monster, and you wish you could just wipe it away but it is part of you." I sound convincing, well, to me anyway.

Loki is now quiet, studying me as I analyse him, squirming in his skin as I say my own speech.

"I saw you fall, the bifrost destroyed from your own childish prayers to be accepted. When I saw that, when I saw _you_, we were in the same position. I had no one, I was lost and felt like the pain was never going to end. When you find out the truth...you wish you'd never found out, you wish you still believed the lie." These are likely the truest words I will ever speak, pouring out all that bitterness, sadness and every other ness I could think of.

"I'm nothing like you mortal!" He snarls at me, the calm facade no longer on his face. I shut up now, all the adrenaline gone now as I stare at this child, because that is what he is, a child searching for acceptance.

"Barton told me everything, the hospital, the S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Your hands are dripping, gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer... Pathetic! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away." He's now in my face, the glass the only thing separating us. His outburst making me shake slightly, not at all used to the anger inside it.

He slams the glass with his fist, sending me back slightly in shock.

"No, I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you! Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear! And when he wakes, he'll have just enough time to see the work he's done, and when he screams, I'll break his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!" I can't look at him any more spinning around and hiding my face, I choke, imagining Clint stabbing me with a sharp knife.

"Y-You're a monster." I choke, and I hear him chuckle evilly behind me.

"Oh no, you brought the monster." I think this is classed as a log bulb moment, I spin around to face Loki, the confusion on his face priceless as I look normal, no tears or anything.

"So Banner...that's your play." How come I didn't see it before? He looks confused again, eyebrows creased as he has removed e hand from the glass.

"What?" I don't answer him, turning swiftly on my heals as I leave the cage. Pressing a hand to the hidden radio earpiece in my left ear.

"Loki intends on releasing the hulk." I say through the earpiece.

"Williams? Okay, I'll inform Director Fury immediately." The unfamiliar voice sounds just as confused as Loki, but quickly regained composure. Just before I leave completely, I turn around to face Loki with a tight smug on my face.

"Thank you...for your cooperation." Best phrase I've ever said, making Loki look really pissed at me. I will likely suffer for it later, but for now, I've beaten the god of mischief. He doesn't say anything, glaring at me before returning to sit at the plastic bed. I take this as our end to our heart-to-heart talk and leave. I make it two steps, before stopping abruptly. I head straight back into the room, Loki's eyes glueing onto me as soon as he hears the first taps. We have a staring contest for what seems ages, then loudly and quickly I speak five words.

"We are our own nightmares." I leave before he can counter it, I'll leave him with it, to try and figure out what I had meant. I rush towards the labs, knowing at Fury and the others will be on the scene quickly. I turn a corner and bump into someone wearing spandex blue, none other than Captain America.

"Sorry ma'am." He sounds pissed, I wonder why. He stares at me when he realises who I am, obviously Fury making him read my files, the ones I've tried to hack into with out much success. That's the one thing I can't seem to hack into, my own files, maybe my kind just doesn't want to read them.

"Did you know?" He asks me hastily, giving me not a chance to recover from his impact. I stand there confused for a second, then realise what he's asking about. Faze two, that's all it is ever about, faze two.

"Yes, but believe me, I never wanted anything to do with it." I reply calmly, speaking the truth as I still don't want anything to do with it. He sighs, nodding his head before running off down the corridor, dodging agents in the process. I follow after him, but I can already hear arguments exploding from the labs.

"Loki defiantly is still one step ahead." I mutter as I find Steve and Tony at each other's throats, Thor, Fury and Natasha in their own separate argument. I want to scream, simply to make everyone shut up but I doubt it would do any good.

_Damn you Loki, you son of a bitch._

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**As I said, short. I will likely do another Loki chapter at some point, have more ideas for him in this now. How would you guys feel about Zoey being with one o f the characters? If do, tell me which one and I will do a vote.**

**(sneezes) ok I think I've done enough now...**

**bye for now, pleas review!**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	11. Chapter 11

**This is probably the shortest one I've written. Soorry of this is really bad, I've just had massive mind block and stuff.**

**im unsure of where to send this next, so I. Probably gonna take a small break for a little bit, but I'm not giving up on this, just need some ideas.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs allthe rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_We are the bold,_

_United souls,_

_We live to win another victory,_

_Our sacred scars,_

_Show who we are,_

_And tell the story of our memories,_

_We are one ~ 12 stones_

* * *

**A chance for a new life**

Never thought I would see the day, me and the avengers walking together, stopping the world from becoming enslaved. The war criminal Loki chained, a muzzle object over his mouth, which looks pointless to me. Cuts cover his face, eyes no longer showing arrogance, but dullness.

I stay by Clint and Natasha, finding that they have begun to accept me again, in their own special way. I think they know I'm mourning, Phil no longer able to believe in me, believe I could be a hero. I'm not, I never was, but just knowing after everything I had done to prove him wrong...he still believed. I don't think the shock has caught up with me yet, it likely will in a few days, me in a fetes position on the floor, Clint kicking me into sanity.

Bitterness engulfs me as I glare at Loki, his brother Thor saying his farewells to the other avengers. Our eyes meet for a second, I'm the one that looks away first in fear of attacking him where he stands. That wouldn't look good, not with me just beginning to be treated as an agent again. Fury did give me that choice, be an agent, but I declined. I can't live that life anymore, because I know I will never be truly forgiven for what I did.

In fact, I've been given a lot of chances for a fresh start. Tony and Pepper (mostly Pepper) asked whether I wouldn't mind helping out at Stark tower, since I'm somehow a whiz kid in science (not so sure since I nearly exploded the lab, four times). I declined that one, Stark being just as much of a douchebag from when he did the assembly at one of my schools, didn't end well.

Bruce knew about my disappearing act, him also being on the run from the government. Seeing as he thought I would benefit from a calm person (yeah, can't believe he said that either) as it would help with my anger issues (seriously Bruce, I'm not at bad). Him also being a doctor, he thought he might be able to help me, maybe he's not that type of doctor but he could still help. Again I declined, really wishing people would stop treating my like a kid, I just helped the avengers stop an alien invasion, I think I'm just as much of an adult as them now.

Honestly, I just want to be on my own for a while. S.H.I.E.L.D is always going to be on my tail, but maybe if I try to be normal for a couple of weeks, then maybe all that anger would go, and I could accept being an agent again.

When Thor had finished trying to hug Selveig to death, he turned to me. His stern face did hold an almost midguardian smile, hugging me awkwardly as his armour and height really didn't help, me really hating hugs with a passion. Once it was over, I told Tony to delete the photo (he had got his phone out, no way was I letting him put that on Facebook.)

"Son of Coul was a good man, but he died a noble death." Thor tries to help, but being me it just made me feel a whole lot worse. Made me feel guilty.

"He would still be alive, if you're brother wasn't a bitch." Maybe it was a little harsh, and Loki did have a pretty crap day, but I still thought he was a diva. Loki did seem to shift his eyes to me, I plainly refused to look at him, his glaring eyes would make me uncomfortable.

Thor looks confused at my words, maybe thinking that I had just called his brother a female canine. Either way, he nods his head as a final goodbye and prepares to take the tesseract with him. When Selveig uses the tongs to place the cube into the Asgard type cylinder, I see everyone's eyes focus on it, my own eventually do. I'm happy to see it finally gone, but my abilities scream as its energy is being taken away, those abilities attached to the cube just as much as Romero's machine.

"Shakespeare, when do we get a vacation to Asgard?" It's Tony that speaks, breaking the mood. Thor briefly smiles, finding the metal man funny.

"One day my friends. Now, I must only take my brother to serve his punishment, but maybe I will bring someone with me, next time." His words echo, that deep voice sounding much like thunder. I suddenly get an impulse, as I remember the words I spoke to Loki when he was still trapped in the cage.

"Wait!" I shout, striding towards the two gods. Loki doesn't bother looking up this time, thinking that my intention is to talk to Thor. I wonder what he would say, if that muzzle wasn't put over his mouth like a rabid dog. For some reason it angers me, even if the son of a bitch did kill my adoptive father, doesn't mean he should be treated as a monster.

My hands work faster then my brain, swiftly trying to find the latch intwined in his long black hair. I've startled him, his body tensing from my cold hands. My eyes keep a steady glare at the area behind him, not looking into his green eyes. When I do finally unclip the latch, I gently remove it, his mouth free to speak. But he doesn't, he just stares at me, my movements clearly something he wasn't expecting.

I don't look at them, but I can tell the others are staring at me like I'm crazy. I probably am, being in close quarters with the god that just tried to take over the world, that threatened to have Clint kill me. My glare never falters, not giving anyone any ideas, there is no way that I'm in any way attracted to this liar.

"What I said before...I said out of previous experience. You know, daddy issues are a common thing in villains, our origin stories always having something to do with bad parents or some other family shit." I don't know why I've said, it just seemed to slip of my tongue. He just stares at me creepily, still unwilling to say anything.

Okay, so I'm assuming this is the part where we hug awkwardly and suddenly shippers start piling up? Nu uh, if I was to do anything right now, it would be to punch him straight in the face and make him have a nose bleed, if gods can have nose bleeds that is.

I think I can hear Tony's phone snapping another photo, that was is defiantly not going on any social networks, even if I have to smash the damn thing.

I step back to Natasha and Clint, them ignoring the little scene, but I'm pretty sure Clint is face palming right now. His sunglasses hiding his eyes, but not the serious expression on his face. Just before Thor leaves, Natasha leans over to Clint and whispers something in his ear. I see a smirk spread across his face...

What the hell did she just say?

Maybe I will never know.

Thor twists the lever, Loki now holding the other end begrudgingly. They are engulfed in blueness, the brightness and billowing wind making all of us cover our faces. Within a flash they are gone, leaves flying everywhere and hitting me in the face, but the others don't seem to have the same problem.

The departure seems to be a signal, everyone making their own leave. Tony and Bruce step into Tony's sports car (science bros or what?), him honking the horn and waving goodbye as they speed off. Steve gets on his bike, the old thing fitting for his 40's style, I really don't think he will ever catch up with the modern age. Natasha and Clint get in a S.H.I.E.L.D armoured van, Clint driving while Natasha points him the direction to their next mission.

I'm left alone, no one saying goodbye to me as they know I will likely bump into all of them at some point. It's strange, now I wish I had said yes to at least one of the offers, at least I wouldn't be alone. No more Phil to come and pick me up, him tired of my sass. Part of me wants to believe he is still alive, you know, in one of those spy films where the guy is dead for a few seconds before he is revived, goes on holiday somewhere like Fiji. If only, this is real life, and in real life Phil Coulson is gone and I'm alone.

"So you're that kid then? Darcy used to mention you a lot." The voice catching me off guard, forgetting that Eric Selvieg is still here, his tired eyes no longer clouded from Loki's control. At the mention of Darcy, I'm confused, but then I remember. A long while ago, we went to the same school, this ironically being the one school where I stayed longer then a term. We had gotten on quite well, until eventually I screwed up and was kicked out, never spoke or heard from her again.

"She remembers me?" I ask out of curiously, walking over to wear he sits on the edge of the open truck. The one used to transport e tesseract safely without prying eyes of the public.

"Couldn't quiet her, between you and Jane, you were the only girls she got on well with." That's Darcy alright, couldn't shut her up for anything, but I guess it meant I didn't have to say anything, listen to her made everything easier.

"You know, we could use some extra help. I'm sure Jane won't mind, after all, I think you could use the distraction." He smiles at me, clearly noticing my loneliness just now. I let a tight smile spread on my face, before it fades again, yeah I could use a distraction. Maybe I would be good at what they do, I mean, I'm average in science, and it means I would still be S.H.I.E.L.D but away from it.

I feel metal in my fingers, I look down and realise I'm still carrying Loki's muzzle. I don't know why I didn't just throw it in the water, its a barbaric thing that I'm sure Clint or one of the other agents wouldn't mind putting on me once in a while. I stare at it for a long time, before I throw the damn thing into the water, my throwing arm somehow very good considering I'm quite far away from the edge.

I turn back to Selvieg, still not given him an answer yet.

"Sure, why not?"

* * *

**As I said, very short. I'll likely add in spider man or thor 2 (need to see it first, want to watch it so bad!), but until then, please review.**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	12. Chapter 12

**I have some ideas now, still might take me a while to upload.**

**have been wondering whether to carry on in present day now, but have flash back chapters or something. Tell me what you think.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**IMPORTANT: this may seem like a boring chapter, but please read to the end. have a little cliffhanger sort of thing...**

**with that done, on with the chapter**

* * *

_One track mind, one track heart,_

_If I fail, I'll fall apart,_

_Maybe it is all a test,_

_Cause I feel like I'm the worst,_

_So I always act like I'm the best,_

_Oh No ~ Marina and the diamonds_

* * *

**The Hulk makes a house call**

"Hey Bruce, I thought you weren't staying in New York." I am actually surprised to see Bruce Banner standing on my doorstep.

My new apartment given to be by S.H.I.E.L.D after they wanted to keep a close eye on me for a few weeks, making sure I wouldn't go super insane again. Psh, if I was going to then I would have already destroyed the Helicarrier, them only just repairing it.

Still, the apartment wasn't too bad. It was out of sight of prying eyes, but was close to places where I go quite often, mainly the library, suddenly finding myself a nerd and reading up on history. I guess that was Steve's fault, his stories about World War Two making me curious about it, but can't complain, it keeps me busy.

"Yeah well, Stark dragged me to his tower, and I kinda stayed to, well, I don't know." He stutters, his skittish demeanour very much different from the _other guy_, someone I don't want to pick a fight with after the battle of New York.

He does look tired, but after the mandarin and everything, I'm sure Tony had plenty to talk about. I hadn't seen him much, occasionally he would appear at my window, wearing the iron man armour, scaring my elderly neighbours to death (the apartment I swear was built for the old people, too stubborn to go into a home.).

"Want to come in, I can make some coffee?" I offer, coffee being a common thing for me now.

"Yeah sure, if you're offering." He says before stepping into the small apartment. He's wearing his usual attire of a plain shirt, this one white, with a tweed styled brown jacket, and blue pants. Judging by his bland clothes, he's always ready in case the other guy makes an appearance, not buying too expensive clothing.

I offer to take his jacket, but he declines saying it was quite cold. That was true, the heating in the apartment not working too well. An oversized hoodie and blue jeans being my choice of clothing, just for a joke I wanted to buy one of those Eskimo coats, in the end I decided against it as I didn't have a lot of money.

I direct him to the kitchen, a stool standing on its own by the kitchen counters. He sits on it just as I to put water into the kettle, the small kitchen counters boxing me in, making it hard the manuever. He rubs his hands together out of habit, something I caught him doing when in the lab, the only distraction being to locate the tesseract.

I push the memory out of my head, I'm starting fresh, no more nightmares. That's what I tell myself, but my brain decides that it wants to torture me more, the night time bringing back painful scenes of an old hospital.

"Do you plan on staying in New York now?" I ask, flicking the kettle on and wait for it to start purring.

"Not the best idea, maybe a few weeks, but then I have to get going again." He doesn't sound unhappy at the idea, clearly large cities not good for his blood pressure, understandable I guess. I wish he didn't have to go, Bruce agreeing to let me help in the labs, quite surprised at my attitude towards science. I'm not a mad scientists, I'm not that good, but I know more the the basics at least. Still, he backed me up when Tony thought I would jeopardise everything, him reading up on my file no doubt.

I know Bruce knows, but he never brings it up in conversation. Maybe he's just judging me by how I act now, what he saw of me on the Helicarrier, which was a better me then I have been in a few years.

The whistle goes and I pour the boiling water into two cups, I make a gesture which is a question of what he wants from it.

"Just black, two sugars, thanks." He fills in the gap and I grab the sugar out of one of the cupboards above my head, placing the two sugars in and handing it to him. He mutters a thank you, me just having the coffee as it is, needing the kick as its quite early in the morning.

We sit in silence (well Bruce sits, I'm leaning my elbows against the counter), the strong taste of black coffee sliding down my throat, the warmth waking me immediately.

"Everyone will miss you." I say to break the silence, I for one will, but the others I'm not so sure. He makes a light chuckle, clearly not believing me, but shows his appreciation.

"Good to know someone will, but no, I can't stay. I really don't think I can stay here longer then a few weeks, New Yorkers shouting and cursing really doesn't help...well, you know." He says with a tight smile, his light humour one that I'm not used to, only Clint's and Phil's being the only humour I've known.

Phil...that's a name I refuse to think about. After twelve hours, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter, I don't think I've ever cried that much, not even when mom died. I just couldn't stop, well, that was until I found some sleeping pills and took more then I should've done, I think I slept for a whole day. Either way, Phil has left a gaping whole in my heart, the small thing growing larger with the more people that die around me.

Villains don't cry, so I'm not considered that anymore, maybe an anti-hero? Or is that the same thing? Who knows, but I think Phil's death in a cruel way was what I needed.

It made me realise what a child I've been, so what if S.H.I.E.L.D was planning on making weapons with the tesseract? So what if they had betrayed me? I made it worse, I killed people that wanted to help me, make me wake up...

Why do I always end up having a conversation in my mind?

Bruce is conscious of my silence, the cup of coffee still placed at my lips, beginning to sting. I put it down, checking that my bottom lip isn't burnt and try to think of something to start another conversation.

"I don't plan on staying much longer either. You know Eric Selvig, the one that was controlled my Loki? He talked to Jane Foster about me working with them, apparently she agreed, should be going to meet them in a month." I explain, feeling more independent without S.H.I.E.L.D breathing down my neck. Bruce does seem quite interested, also placing his coffee on the counter, putting his hands in his lap.

"How come its taken this long? It's already been six months." He asks, me thinking the same question. I sigh, a single finger tapping the counter, then stopping abruptly as not to anger Bruce.

"I don't know, honestly, I think I just wanted to be on my own for a while. When I left S.H.I.E.L.D I was alone for the most part, yeah i met people, most of them wanting to kill me, but I always seemed to travel alone. Maybe I like being a hermit." I shrug my shoulders, slight humour in my tone. It is true, I don't seem to know whether I want to leave or not.

"Being alone is horrible. That doesn't mean you can get a boyfriend though, if you do, make sure _I_ have a talk with him first." Bruce's humour, half serious and half joking.

I make a whistle sound, shaking my head as if a boyfriend is a big no-no. No way would I want to be with someone, being bossed around and told what to do by some prick? Not unless he wanted to be castrated in the middle of the night.

"You'd have to get in line, pretty sure Tony, Steve and Clint would do the hundred questions with him, or simply kick his ass." The image did bring a smile to my face, some poor guy having Iron Man, Captain America and Hawkeye all trying to murder him, sure he be scared shitless and think I was crazy. Meh, boys are always the same, lazy douchebags who think the answer to every question is sex.

"Well if he treated you right, I'm sure there wouldn't be a problem." Yeah right Bruce, then you men would just humiliate him. And then he'd run away, saying my _friends_ were crazy.

"Please can we move onto another subject, anything that doesn't involve me being single?" I'm pretty sure this counts as begging, still, it makes Bruce stop. We take another few sips of the coffee, the temperature just right to drink now.

"You plan on seeng any of the others before you leave?" He meant the avengers, typical. I was planning on meeting up with Steve at some point, finding that he also shares Bruce's view of me, not mentioning my bloody past. He likely doesn't mention it because he doesn't want to talk about his own past, I don't mind, he tells me stuff he wants to tell me, I'll still find it interesting.

Tony I wasn't sure about, giving him some space since the mandarin and that, thinking he didn't need a reminder of the battle of New York. Would be nice to see Pepper though, course Tony would be there, but I think I could handle is assholeness for one visit.

Natasha and Clint were a different story. They may have let me off the hook during the battle and when we saw Thor and Loki leave. But, now, I'm not so sure. After all, they were the ones that had managed to capture me in the first place, a few choice phrases I regret saying, not able to take them back. Maybe I could face them, and Maria, and maybe Fury. But not yet, not until I'm sure they won't lock me up or beat me up.

"Maybe, when I'm ready to face their wrath." I believe this was supposed to me internal, but I end up saying it out loud. Bruce's face changes into a comforting smile, clearly believing I'm still afraid to face up to my past.

"Ended up having an unexpected visit from Natasha, honestly, I think she misses you." It's a subtle hint, and I smile with appreciation. Meeting up with Natasha might be a better move, talking Clint round if he still doesn't trust me.

"Another thing on my to-do-list, visit Natasha and try not to get my head bashed in." We chuckle together, finishing the coffees and saying a goodbye as Bruce leaves to do whatever he does in New York.

It was nice having a small chat, a normal chat about boys, gossip, and assassins and superheroes. Things seem to be getting easier, still, I can't seem to get rid of this feeling in my gut. Something seems wrong. I've had this feeling ever since Phil died, like it didn't seem real enough. I don't know, must be that part of me that just can't let him go, him being more of a father then my dad ever was.

"Need to stop talking to myself." I mumble, grabbing an extra coat as I walk out the front door. I think visiting Tony and Pepper now will help clear my head, hopefully.

* * *

Trust the weather to pour down with rain as soon as I had stepped outside. And the long walk to Stark tower wasn't one I really wanted, seeing as I would be drenched to the bone by the time I got into the elevator. My prediction being correct, the elevator doors closing with a ding as it speeds up to the top floor.

Even wearing a hood, by hair still holds strips of dripping rain water. I shake my head like a damp dog, praying that Tony doesn't have a camera hidden somewhere.

As I wait for the numbers to pass, I feel an almost dread numb my body. It's like a sudden chill, probably is, but it makes part of me change my mind. Saying that, it's not like I can just walk out the door. Knowing Tony, he would likely just jump into his Iron Man suit and drag me back inside.

Finally the doors open onto the first floor, at first I think it's empty, then Pepper appears with two glasses of champagne in her hands. She walks towards me with a big smile on her face, likely a forced smile as she tries to put everything that had happened behind her. I smile back, her warm aura making me forget the recent cloud over my head.

"Saw you coming, those security cameras Tony put in when I had builders in there." She explains with a mischievous glow in her eyes, both of us giggling together like a couple of kids.

She hands me the champagne glass, I take it generously. Technically I'm not supposed to drink since I'm still under age, but one year doesn't seem to matter to Tony and Pepper, the only people who actually let me drink. Normally it's only a couple of glasses, but Pepper said on my birthday we would go and do some shots, maybe Natasha or Darcy could tag along.

Selvig managed to get me her phone number, at first when I called her I was nervous, but eventually we were talking as if we were long lost friends. Somehow we got onto the conversation of Thor and the other Asgardian, she asked about Loki, I simply told her he was bitch, she seemed to get the gist of it. Knowing that I had at least made friends with Darcy was a relief, Selvig and I had small conversations, but nothing really that meant we would get on. Jane on the other hand, I haven't even spoken to her yet, Selvig talks about her and what she's like, maybe all my worrying will be over nothing.

Pepper walks me over to the bar, Tony rebuilding most of the tower after the battle of New York, everything was identical to what it used to be, according to Tony anyway.

"Wondered when you were coming out of hibernation, almost made Tony go and pick you up." She jokes, pulling some chairs out for us to sit at the bar. She's wearing casual clothes, not her usual business suit, just some jeans and a tank top.

"I think Tony has already scared most of my neighbours, thought it best to come to see you." I reply, sitting in the comfy black leather stool. Pepper sits next to me, taking a sip of the champagne before setting it down on the table. Once she had done this, her faced changed into empathy, wonder where this is going.

"Honestly I just wanted the piece of mind, must be difficult without Phil." I often forget they were friends, Phil being the one that first told Pepper about S.H.I.E.L.D, him being Tony's babysitter.

"It's been rough, but I know he would want me to be better, he always believed I could." The thought brings a smile to my face, that's the way I can carry on his legacy, showing people he was right all along. I sip the champagne, the taste a bit tangy for my taste buds, but I drink it all the same.

"Tony should be back soon, I think he would appreciate the company." Pepper says, meaning that he's going to be sassier then ever, meh, I think I can handle it.

"Bruce came to visit me today, said how Tony dragged him here to see him." I say with a suggestive tone, wanting someone else to elaborate on what he had meant. Pepper sighs, eyes knowing more then me.

"Tony I think needed another opinion on what happened, or just wanted to stroke his ego, and thought Bruce would be able to help him." Pepper shakes her head, knowing Tony way too well.

"He does realise Bruce isn't that type of doctor right?" It's more of a joke, and Pepper sees the humour and chuckles. She doesn't comment, not given time to as Tony Stark walks out of the elevator. No more arc reactor, no more Iron Man suits, this was the new Tony Stark. Still he was an ego nut, but at least he wasn't in weaponry anymore, as far as I knew.

"And Zoey returns, great to see you kid." He says, slapping me on the back as he passes me, grabbing a drink from the bar. Pepper rolls her eyes, knowing that this is just a front put on by Tony.

"I'm not a kid anymore Tony, I'm twenty, so stop calling me that." I sigh, really fed up with it. Tony just waves a hand, his back to me as he grabs a huge glass of what looks like whiskey, pouring some of it into a smaller glass.

"Nope, you will always be that kid who stood up to me in St Peter's high school. What school did you go to afterwards?" Dwelling on the past, just what we need. I comply though, trying to remember that far back, I've been to so many schools, that I may have gone to at least ninety percent of them in New York alone.

"I think it was Midtown high school, I think I lasted two terms." I muse, remembering how I fitted in quite well until I accidentally set the gym aflame, not good, earned me to be expelled, again.

Those days are over now, no more school, no more homework, just adult life...and it sucks. Wish I'd realised how much easier being a kid was, I wouldn't have taken it for granted so much.

Tony turns around, drink to his lips as makes an echo in the glass, something like a hmm sound. Pepper and I share a look, I think we just wanted a girl's chat, pepper not knowing many people to have those chats with. Maybe I'm not that sort if person, but since talking to Darcy again, I've become adapted to it.

Tony gets the hint, finishing his drink in one gulp and putting the glass back on the counter.

"I know when I'm unwanted, which doesn't happen often of course." Damn his ego, but he still leaves us to talk. "Pepper I'll be in the basement, JARVIS keep an eye on them." Really Tony? You want an AI to keep an eye on us? Was Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist really becoming paranoid? I am way too curious for my own good.

He leaves anyway, disappearing into the elevator with another wave of his hand. Me and Pepper just laugh, we probably have no idea what the joke is, but its still funny. Now she's in gossip mode, pursing her lips ready to ask thousands of questions.

"So, found yourself a man yet?" She asks in a whisper, as if JARVIS couldn't eavesdrop on us.

Why was everyone suddenly wanting me to have a boyfriend? It wasn't even a week after Thor's departure when Pepper started to suggest a boyfriend, thinking being in a relationship would be good for me.

"No, but there's this guy who lives in the apartment next to mine." As soon as I say this her face lights up in excitement, and I'm left wondering why I told her.

"Come on spill, what's he like?"

I've made a terrible, terrible mistake. Okay, so the guy is pretty nice so far, we've only really said hello and goodbye on the stairs to the apartments. The conversation that lasted longer then a few seconds was when I was banging on his door, because I could hear his music in my bedroom, at three in the morning. Not a good first impression, but I think he actually liked my feisty attitude.

"I haven't really spoken to him much, he's not really in the area often. I think he mentioned he was a mercenary, maybe, I don't know I wasn't really paying attention." That's a lie, he talked about that _nonstop_, I never liked to military, or anyone involved with it. Pepper seems to get more interested in this new man, thinking that something will happen between us. To clarify, he isn't my type, too much up his own ass sort of person, he's funny I'll give him that though.

"What's his name?" Pepper asks, practically on the edge of her seat. I take this chance to recoil back into my memories, trying to find the name to the face.

"Wade, Wade Wilson."

* * *

**Figured out who it is? **

**I couldn't help myself, I've recently become a fan of Deadpool. I also heard rumours that they are going to make a deadpool film, I really, really ,really hope so! (Sorry fan girling right now!) but yeah, I hope so. I know loads of people thought Ryan Reynolds wasn't a good choice, I saw the scene he did in wolverine origins, I say he should be given a chance. But yeah, wade is gonna be making an appearance, this is gonna be before the Weapon x (I know this messes the timeline up completely, but hey, I haven't watched the film so its not really gonna have much of a mention. I've been babbling too long...**

**bye for now, please review!**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks everyone for sticking with this story, it really means a lot to me!**

**i apologise in advance if Wade is ooc, I'm not good with humour but I really wanted to add him as a character.**

**this song has been stuck in my head since I watched the sorcerer's apprentice, and I believe it fits wade and Zoey. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_I need another story,_

_Something to get off my chest,_

_My life gets kinda boring,_

_Need something that I can confess,_

_'Til all my sleeves are stained red,_

_From all the truth that I've said,_

_Come by it honestly I swear,_

_Thought you saw me wink, no,_

_I've been on the brink, so,_

_ Tell me what you want to hear,_

_Something that will light those ears,_

_Sick of all the insincere,_

_So I'm gonna give all my secrets away,_

_OneRepublic ~ secrets_

* * *

**Wade Wilson is an asshole**

_Wade you fucking asshole! _I scream internally as I again bash his door with a fist, this being the hundredth time. Loud musics blares from the apartment, and I'm surprised none of the other residents haven't yelled at him, probably too creped to walk outside their own apartments.

It's been a few weeks since I first told Pepper about Wade, even with her squeaks of happiness (me actually talking to a man who isn't an agent or Avenger), I could tell she would be looking up his history at some point, likely Tony beating her to it. Hearing nothing from either of them, I assumed he was safe, not a killer or anything.

Doesn't mean he can't be a douche though, which is what he is. I've spoken with him quite a few times, his stays at his apartment becoming gradually longer. He's refusing to tell me anything more about his job, saying its best that I don't know. Honestly, I think he just likes being more dominant...not in that sense!

At first it was nice having a (relatively) normal person to talk to, conversations on the stairs growing increasingly longer as we literally bump into each other more. I'm still quite wary of him though, my past could become useful to the governments he works for, especially if they look up my young years, back when my life with mom and Jodie was simple.

I find myself thinking back to those days, writing it all down in a notebook under my pillow, memories flooding to me so they are not written in order. I try not to write about my life too often, in case someone comes across it and uses it against me, mainly past enemies I have made over the years. But it gives me a sense of accomplishment, remembering the times when everything was easy, the mistakes I made and how I learned from them.

"Wade, open this damn door or so help me..." I can't think of a good enough threat, so just bang the door some more, the poor thing starting to have a slim dent in the wood. Eventually, the music is turned off and light footsteps move towards the front door.

_Stealth training_. I conclude from the lack of heavy footsteps, knowing for a fact stealth can be one of the few things that can keep you alive. Within a flash the door is flung open, to reveal Wade Wilson looking me up and down, stopping momentarily at my chest area before staring into my eyes.

Medium mass of brown hair, penetrating brown eyes and a slight stumble is his most prominent facial features. His build is very much as a soldier, quite slim but muscular enough to fight just about anybody. It didn't help that his red tank top didn't leave much to the imagination, black pants gripping against his skin.

He is sweating, a lot, droplets pouring down his face as he pants. The way he stares at me, I can't quite tell whether he's pissed or trying to be comedic. However, the way he stands before me, I find my voice doesn't want to work, so we stand in silence.

"Can I help you?" He exhales, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture for me to spit it out. I didn't notice that he had a towel in his hand, but he now uses it to wipe his face.

I just gawp, suddenly not as brave as I was before he had opened the door. Eventually I mange to slap my mind a few times, and the words fall of my tongue in an icy manner.

"The music is too loud, again, I can hear it from my bedroom." Maybe I didn't have to add the bedroom bit. His eyebrows making a suggestive motion, to which I glare at him, the momentarily dumbness subsiding.

"So?" He replies arrogantly, seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere with his eyebrow movement. I find it annoying that I have to spell it out to him, especially as I'm not exactly the most presentable I've ever been.

My brown hair a mess, falling limply down my shoulders with tangles everywhere, black gown tightly held against my body, not revealing any parts above my ankles. A simple baggy t-shirt and shorts being the normal nightwear for me, you would think this would give him the hint.

"It's three in the morning..." I mumble, tiredness overwhelming from the recent outburst. He now leans against the door, muscular arms crossed as he smirks at me, charm clearly something he thinks he's good at.

"There's this invention that people use to block out noise, they're called earplugs." He says sarcastically, my lowered fist shaking from the urge to punch him. I rise above it, not even the God of Mischief making me loose control, even with his sassy comments.

"There is a thing called being considerate, mainly to other neighbours." I counter, my mouth working faster then my brain.

He pushes his tongue into his left cheek, creating a bump for a second before he smirks at me again. It's hard to believe he is finding this amusing, considering how many glares and icy replies I've said to him over the last few weeks, though judging by his characteristics, he probably doesn't even remember my name.

_Can't believe I told Pepper he was a nice guy_ I think as he continues to check me out, not seeing me without much clothing before, his stares very perverted in my eyes.

"How could I forget such a feisty thing." He says mockingly, as if he had heard my mind speak. "It's Zoey right? Period girl as I recall our first meeting." Suddenly he sounds all formal, which I assume is to continue to mock me at my speech.

Yeah, that's a long story. Basically it was my time of the month, had to rush to the store across the street before I ran out of _women products_. Lets just say I wasn't in the best of moods, drenched to the bone, the plastic bag ripping as soon as I walked outside. Walking up the stairs, I just happened to walk into my new neighbour, earphones in, blaring loudly just like his apartment. Of course, this is the one time I don't look where I was going, and crashed into him, though in my defence he was the one that should have seen me since he was walking _downstairs_. All my stuff landed on the floor, he stumbled over me and nearly fell down all the stairs. And well, he helped pick my stuff up after I practically cursed at him for ages.

I guess at the time he was too busy listening to music to counter my words, carrying on down the stairs after helping me pick some of the products. I'm not the embarrassed type nowadays, but even I couldn't help but turn red then. I think I liked that he didn't make a fuss out of it, too bad I found out he was an asshole.

"Stop calling me that." I reply icily, the nickname something I don't want someone like him calling me. He takes this as a challenge, leaning forward slightly, me countering the movement with a simple glare which means don't touch.

"Or what? You gonna spank me, have I been a bad boy?" He mocks even more, pouting at me with large brown eyes. I can just about keep a straight face, my anger levels rising by the minute.

What was with Wade, did he like being a douche? If he honestly thinks that's the best way to get laid, he clearly hasn't lost his virginity yet. I can't exactly say much in the respect, and I'm not going to elaborate further.

"Screw this, if you're going to continue being a douchebag, fine by me, just don't disturb me." I turn on my heels, not admitting defeat but I can't stand to be around him anymore, in fear of lashing out.

And people wonder why I hate the military, because of people like him.

I'm about to enter my apartment and jump into bed, preferably with earplugs shoved into my ears, when rushing feet suddenly appear behind me.

"Wait, I thought we were having a moment." Wade calls after me, smirk turning into a normal smile for all of a second. I mentally curse, before spinning around to face him again, just enough energy for a few more minutes.

Now that he's stopped me, he doesn't seem to know what do to, shifting on his feet at being stable for so long. I believe he is nervous, no, that's not the right word, he's just being shifty.

"I'll turn the music down, if, you give me your number." He says negotiatingly, all his original charm back again. I stare at him as if he's crazy, likely he already knows it, giving me those puppy dog eyes again.

"We live next door to each other, why would I give you my number?" I ask in disbelief, curiosity staining the tone.

"Because then it makes it official." He replies straight away, making me even more curious, what the hell was he playing at?

"Make what official?" I seriously need to stop asking dumb questions, him thinking he has the upper hand as his smirk grows larger to show white teeth.

"Me asking you out." He says it as if its obvious. I stand there, mouth open, dumbfounded that he's just said _that_, of all things. He takes my silence as me thinking about it, which I'm not, my brain unable to figure out why he would ask me out.

I haven't shown any interest in him, okay, so I've chatted with him, most of the time how I despise him. He never seemed overly bothered at my presence, me just being another resident in the apartment building, likely not even staying for long. Because I wasn't, after a couple more weeks, I was off with Jane, Darcy and Eric to study science.

"What?" Is all my mind can calculate. He doesn't take this as a rejection, nor does he take it as an acceptance, he just plays along with it.

"I'm asking you out. As in dating. Which is why I want your number so I can call you, to make it fit your specifications." He says it all slowly, as if I'm finding it slow to catch up, which incidentally I am.

_What_? My mind repeats, mainly the last part about my _specifications_. I wouldn't care if he just pulled a date out of a hat, I wouldn't say yes, but I wouldn't expect anything fancy. Why would he assume I have a high standard, hell, I grew up being thankful for _low_ standard!

"look, I don't know what you've been doing in there, but its likely fucked up drugs." I say jokily, part of me serious as it wouldn't surprise me if he did. He seems to like my sense of humour, not fazed by the words and continues to show his eagerness.

"The way I see it, you have no more music, and a free date with me. Honestly it's a win-win deal. I would take it if you offered it to me...maybe even more then one date." He says suggestively, the mischievous smirk growing. I hold my hands up defensively, telling him that's as much information that I don't need, and more importantly, don't want to hear.

Why not take it? If all I have to do is go on one pointless date with him, then it ends the long nights of music filled sleep. Saying that, it probably wouldn't make much difference, my nightmares still attacking me in my slumber.

Starting to feel quite drowsy, I make a quick decision.

"Fine, I'll give you my number tomorrow." I say limply, really wanting to just flop onto my bed now. He straightens up in triumph, giving me a short 'see ya tomorrow period girl' (me too tired to argue anymore) and strides back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"What have I just gotten myself into?" I mutter under my breath, stumbling back into my apartment, and back into bed.

The answer being a whole lot of shit...

* * *

I wake up, realising that I never actually fell asleep. The rays of sunlight seeping through my bedroom blinds, showering me with its glorious goldenness. Sitting up, my body aches, mainly my left hand as purple bruises appear over it. I wonder why, until I remember the events of last night.

_Oh...fuck, I said Wade could have my number..._ I fall backwards onto the pillow, wanting to just cover my head with the duvet and go back to sleep. But I can't, not today. I have to meet Steve in a cafe at ten, him usually bright and early. Aparantly he needed to talk to me about something, and it couldn't wait until a later date, and I dare not argue.

Grumbling, I stumble out of bed and head straight to the shower, knowing already that my hair is likely a mess. As the hot water slips down my body, I feel my brain begin to wake up, making it think as I try to find the best way to approach the current situation. I don't want a conversation with Wade, so maybe I can just slip my number under his door, or simply say that I forgot. Nah, I'll cut him some slack, slipping the number under the door being a better option.

Turning the water off and climbing out, the chilly November air quickly makes me shiver. I curse as there are no towels in the bathroom, the only dry one being in my bedroom. I never like being naked for too long, scars of past experiences faintly seeable on my skin. Still, I can't do much in the bathroom. Cautiously, I creep out of the bathroom (I don't know why, I do it even when I'm alone) and make my way to the bedroom.

Instead...I bump into someone. And that someone falls backwards with me falling atop. I scream in the surprise, only to be echoed by a yell of shock from the other person. Initially I'm too paralysed to move, but then realise its Wade, both of us staring into each other's eyes.

"What the fuck!" I exclaim, jumping off him and rushing back into the bathroom.

"Why are you wet...I don't understand, why are you wet?!" He replies, his charm suddenly broken. I slam the bathroom door closed, red embarrassment creeping across my cheeks, breathing heavily as I lean against the door.

Hearing steady footsteps, I freeze, thinking he's going to try and open the door. However, instead they move towards the bedroom, then quickly they move back to the bathroom door, a quick series of knocks.

I don't do anything for a second, then open the door just a crack, a pile of clothes slithering through the hole. He doesn't say anything, nor does he try and enter. I simply snatch the clothes, his hand hastily pulled out the way as I slam it again.

When my heartbeat evens, I quickly slip on what he had brought. A white bra and t-shirt with a black skull and crossbones splattered on the front, dark blue jeans and a pair of trainers, considering he likely had just picked something at random, he had good dress sense. Still, the t-shirt was quite tight as I haven't worn it for a few years, my emo phase quickly coming and then gone.

Once I'm dressed, I step outside finding Wade sitting on my couch. He isn't in shock anymore, but his face resembles a kid who has seen way too much, eyes trying not to meet mine. We stay in silence, deeming it best as embarrassment still latches onto us. Slowly, I walk so I'm in front of him, the cheap tv I had bought behind my back, the front door in perfect eye line in case I need an escape.

Arms crossed, glaring eyes, I'm so tempted to just slap him. He shifts away from the glare, still trying to get over seeing me naked, which surprises me.

"What the fuck, are you doing in my apartment?" Cursing to someone isn't my usual thing, but right now, I'm too angry to care. Maybe I need to ask Bruce how he keeps his anger levels low, just in case _Wade_ really annoys me.

"The door was open, came to check you were okay." He replies flatly, staring at the space behind me. He must have been getting ready to go for a run, gym clothing of a dark blue tank top and sport pants, earphones hanging below his neck.

_Crap, I must have left the door open last night. _I panic, seeing as anyone could have entered, so in a way I'm glad it was only Wade.

Since being all goody-goody again, I act very much human, forgetting to do things, moaning about neighbours and life in general. when I was a kid, I thought I was missing out when I couldn't be normal, guess I was wrong as it sucks.

gradually, I lower my arms, sighing as water drips from the tips of my hair. This wasn't the best start to a day, in fact, with the way it's going, it could be my worst day. I'm unsure of what to do, thank him or yell at him to get out, or simply sprint back into my bedroom and forget this day ever happened. Sadly, I can't do the latter.

"Thanks, for checking if I was okay. Just please yell if you're here, pretty sure I'm never going to look at you the same way again." I mumble, now catching his eyes as he smiles stiffly.

"Strange, I was thinking the exactly same thing. I won't tell, judging by the scars you have enough to deal with." I believe he curses at himself after saying that, thinking he's overstepped the mark. I do feel uncomfortable, nearly nobody seeing them except for Phil and the doctor that had treated them. Suddenly I become shifty and pull at my sleeves, trying to not look fearful.

"It's okay, I'm assuming you have your own battle scars." I reply, seeing the relief fall on his face. He doesn't comment on the scars, so I take it as a yes. Tired, I sit next to him on the couch, standing up for so long draining me. Again the silence engulfs us, me expecting him to fill it.

"This is not how I wanted the date to go." He sighs, staring at the ground.

"We are not dating, and you made your motivations perfectly clear last night." I huff, a hand scraping against my forehead as a migraine attacks it. I don't bother to get aspirin, just waiting for the aching to stop rather than force it.

"Last night was just a warm up, seeing what your type was." He replies with his famous smirk, turning to me with it as I frown at him.

"Warming up? And for your information I don't have a _type_." I reply icily, really wanting the conversation to be over and for him to leave.

"Good news, but there wasn't a problem anyway, I'm every type you want me to be." He winks at me, god just make it stop! Dropping the hand from my forehead, I lean my head against the couch, eyes closing for a second before I snap them back to Wade.

"Look, I'll give you my number some other time. Right now, I'm supposed to be meeting someone, and its important. So, could you please leave?" It was more of a statement then a question, him initially going to make a snide remark, thinking better of it, he stood up and made his way to the front door.

"I'll be looking forward to it. And, by the way, nice butt." He's already slipping at the door before I can twist and throw something at him. Instead, I grab a cushion and slam it against my face.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot! If I hadn't agreed to help the damn Avengers I wouldn't be in this mess! _I seriously need some anger management lessons, well, I had to meet up with Bruce at some point anyway.

Dropping the cushion, I zombie-walk around my apartment to grab my phone, bag and jacket before heading out the door. I remember to lock it this time, making my way down the stairs and out to the sunshine. Hope I don't bump into Wade again, or I'm seriously re-thinking about superstition.

* * *

The cafe in question sits against the street below Stark tower, the building so popular that many go to the cafe to just catch a glimpse of Iron. Steve told me he liked to go there to draw, able to block most things out even with the blaring traffic. I can tell there is another reason, but I don't say anything, respecting his privacy.

A cup of coffee lies untouched on the oval table, neighbouring tables chatting amongst themselves while me and Steve don't speak a word.

It's strange, sitting at the same table as Captain America. I remember being told stories, Phil always banging on how great he was, me not as interested but still paying attention. Steve signed his cards, thought a tad late, they are stashed somewhere in my apartment, me inheriting them for a reason I cannot find. I keep them safe, preserved, but I dare not touch them at all as I know if Phil returned from the grave he would kill me.

"Are you okay Zoey? You seem awfully quiet." Steve asks concerned, a thing he has done since the battle of New York. Considering I'm watching my coffee cup intently, I'm not surprised he's ask if I'm okay, likely thinking that mentally I'm not okay. I shrug my shoulders, before giving him a proper answer.

"It's weird, pretending to be normal. After all that I did at S.H.I.E.L.D and when I went off the rails, I guess I never thought I would ever get the chance to be normal, it's just abnormal to me." I speak truthfully, confusion apparent on my face. Steve nods his head, knowing what it's like to feel out of place, alone. Seventy years stuck in a block of ice, the world changing, all his friends either deceased or too old to remember their own name.

I'm a hypocrite, telling Wade to be more considerate when I'm plainly ignoring the fact that Steve summoned me here. Which I want to know, because its been bugging me since this morning.

"I'll get used to it." I shrug it off, picking my coffee up and taking a gulp. "So, what did you meet me here?" I ask, the cup still at my lips. Steve crosses his arms, looking at me as if I'm a troublemaker teenager, which catches me off guard.

"Actually it's two things, but I think I'll get the less important one out the way. I was chatting with Tony the other day, you came up in the conversation, partially about a _neighbour_." I hate the way he says neighbour, putting the cup down as my face shifts into an _oh shit_ expression.

He's talking about Wade, I can't tell him about this morning or he will murder Wade and ground me for life, what do I do?

"Oh, he's just someone I chat with from time to time, nothing more." I lie, shrugging my shoulders as if its nothing. Disbelief is written on his face, but he doesn't argue with my judgement, just making sure I won't get hurt.

"That's alright then, because there's something wrong about him." He says cautiously, which gets me interested. Frowning, I continue the conversation.

"What do you mean 'there's something wrong with him'?" Playing dumb isn't my forte, because I know something is wrong with him, but Steve doesn't know that. He looks around so no one can hear him, leaning towards me.

"Tony looked him up. No family, no history, as if he doesn't exist. He's a mercenary, working for all sorts of governments, that alone would make me suspicious, because if he knows your past then..." He doesn't finish, me able to finish it for him.

He's just being overly protective, which I like and don't at the same time. I'm not a kid, I can take care of myself and make my own mistakes, I don't need someone over my shoulder every five seconds.

Reassuringly, I place a hand over Steve's, him reminding me of Phil with his overprotective personality.

"Look, I'm not even interested in him. Even if I was, I can learn from my own mistakes and take care of myself, I lasted a while without S.H.I.E.L.D before, I can do it now." He seems to be less tense now, nodding his head in agreement, but I sense he will tell Tony to keep digging. If Tony turns up on my doorstep in a new Iron Man suit, I swear I'm going to buy a gigantic magnet.

I remove my hand and lean back in the chair, finishing of the coffee before it goes completely cold. Now for the second thing, it can't be much worse can it?

"And the other thing was...Agent Hill wishes to see you." I almost spurt out the coffee, Steve shocked at my suddenness. For people who don't understand, this is the agent Hill that is a complete badass, the agent Hill that told me I wasn't a monster, and then told me I'm no better then the people that had rebuilt the machine. And now she wants to see me, preferably to do something that I likely won't like, today.

"Did she say why?" I ask, hopefully being able to get prepared for her wrath. Steve shakes his head, I'm screwed.

"No, she just said she would like to see you urgently." He replies, today being confirmed as the worst day I could possibly have. Nodding my head seems to be the only answer I can give, my mind elsewhere as it contemplates what Agent Hill would want from her presence.

"Thanks for passing the message on." I mutter, Steve glad to have seen a better side of me. Wonder if he did ever read the file, he told me he had read everyone else's, but didn't mention mine. I won't ask, that would be impolite.

"No problem. I was wondering, could you perhaps show me how these _iPads_ work sometime?" He asks, all confused at even the name. I suppose I owe him, so I agree to help in his struggles with modern technology.

I guess Wade's date wouldn't be anytime soon, but I know he will still pester me for the number. I focus away from Wade, catching up with Steve before I make my way to S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, trying to put it off as long as physically possible.

As I walk down the streets, I can't help but let Wade's word fly through my head. I don't know why, they just seem to sulk at the back of my mind, not willing to be forgotten. There is defiantly something about him, his originality in his (poor) humour still making me smile.

Sometimes, he can be nice, like this morning, or a douchebag like last night. It's like there are two sides to him, switching between each at any given time. After what Steve said, I honestly don't know whether I can trust him or not, but he's seen my scars, and that alone makes him stand out amongst the people I know.

Maybe, just maybe, this date may not go horribly wrong...doubtful, but one percent is better then nothing.

* * *

**Another one done, tell me if you like wade in the story or not, giving me a preference for what you want from the character. Some of his dialogue is from the proposal, I haven't watched it but I caught a scenes in it.**

**bye for now,**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


	14. Chapter 14

**Not much to say on this chapter...**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except my OCs all the rest belong to marvel or their rightful owners.**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_This time, don't need another perfect lie,_

_Don't care if critics ever jump in line,_

_I'm gonna give all my secrets away,_

_Oh, got no reason, got no shame,_

_Got no family I can blame,_

_Just don't let me disappear,_

_I'ma tell you everything,_

_OneRepublic ~ secrets_

* * *

**Rebirth**

That moment, when you realise that everything you've been told is a lie. All those years, learning to trust, believe they want the best for you. And then, in one big reveal...you're world falls into darkness as betrayal and anger squirms its way into your brain, birthing the monster that will destroy you.

I've been there, that moment sending me down a path that I thought would never end. I never seeked forgiveness, because I knew I would never get it, forever bound to be a criminal. But, no, one man persuaded S.H.I.E.L.D that I could be trusted, to find a path to salvation. I found it, battling alongside The Avengers, made me realise that I'm not alone.

This man, Phil Coulson, stands in front of me. Maria Hill's office in S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, herself standing beside the supposed dead man, his face wearing a tight smile. I don't know what do to, a leaning hand grappling a metal table on the centre of the office. Should I cry? Should I hit him? I don't know, my distrust towards S.H.I.E.L.D growing with every secret and lie they twist.

"Hello Zoey." His voice, the kindness I had taken for granted still lingering as he pictures me as the scared little girl he rescued. The only thing I do, is rush towards him and wrap my arms around his neck. Gripping him tightly in a powerful hug as I try to hide the emotions that vibrate my body, an intermixed potion of relief, happiness, joy rolling around my brain. He hush me back, despising the fact he couldn't see me, knowing his death would destroy me.

"It's okay, everything is going to be okay." He comforts, just like when we had first met all those years ago. I was only ale to wrap around his waist then, childish structure shaking from the abuse and fear that had paraded in my childhood. But now, I had Phil back, just knowing he is alive makes me believe that miracles do exist in this messed up world.

"I thought you were gone...I thought I was alone." I whimper, my crimes simply done because I'm a scared woman in a world of nightmares. He strokes my hair, shushing me as I nuzzle my head into his neck, finding security there. I believe Agent Hill is unsure of what to do, but I see a quick smile in the corner of my eye.

Finally we let go, me still overwhelmed that Phil is alive. He doesn't look any different, nor is personality. I know there is another reason I was summoned, Phil's reveal meant that something big was or is happening.

We each take a seat, me alone on one side with Agent Hill and Phil sitting on the other, something clearly wrong by the looks of their faces. This alone clouds the joy at seeing Phil alive, because whatever it is, they've come to me. Not Steve, not Tony, not Clint or Natasha and defiantly not Bruce. They need me. Which disturbs me more then anything.

"Mr Stark and Mr Rogers brought forward suspicions about a certain Wade Wilson."

You have got to be kidding me...why, why does it always end up being something to do with Wade? I'm not even dating him!

"Due to their concerns, S.H.I.E.L.D took the liberty and found more information on Mr Wilson." Phil talks professionally, this information troubling to him, bringing curiosity to the table. Maria also looks concerned, glancing at me in between Phil speaking, searching for the obvious change in my body language.

"What we found, we believe you should know." He sighs, pushing a Top Secret folder towards me, I open it up carefully, met with photographs and large documents on Wade Wilson. I skim through the photos, these mainly being of him with two katana swords, slicing into foreign soldiers, a face of determination, and also worryingly, enjoyment.

It is the symbol on the documents that makes me realise why S.H.I.E.L.D is suspicious, CIA, the agency Jodie had trained and worked for. They had frequently tried to pinpoint my location, after my mother had died, but luckily between the hospital and S.H.I.E.L.D, they honestly believed I was dead as well.

This changes everything, if Wade is still working with the CIA, then they could find me, and use me. I remember Jodie telling me about Somalia, the betrayal caused by a fellow agent simply following orders. I not having anything to do with them, I would rather go ten rounds with The Hulk then work for those idiots.

I push the folder out of my view, frustrated by how I never seem to get a break, something else always around the corner. Nothing is said, me staring at the table as not to look into Phil's eyes.

"The CIA thinks I know about the rift, about everything, that's why they want me. They need to know I won't spill to anyone, they want to kill me." I mumble, still not knowing much about the the rift and how Jodie was connected to it. That's how I lost my mother, how I lost everything...

* * *

_Loud banging echoed from the front door, me, jolted awake by the sudden noise. Hastily, I switched the lamp on, the pink music box open limply from when mom played it to me before I fell asleep. Rushing footsteps moved towards my room, the door flung open as Jodie looked at me, eyes full of shock._

_Sprinting, she ignored me and began opening my wardrobe. Piling clothing into a black rucksack, hands moving so fast they were blurred. I can't stop staring at her, my mind unable to reason why she would be doing this. The banging growing louder with each passing second, voices bellowing from behind the door. _

_"Zoey get up, put some shoes on and follow me." She ordered, zipping the bag up and slinging it over her shoulder, I did as she said, jumping out of bed, kneeling on the floor to grab a pair of pink boots from underneath. Sitting on the edge, my small hands yanked the boots on, once on, a hand outstretched to grab the necklace I had worn since my seventh birthday._

_Jodie had already rushed out the room, more bustling footsteps as everyone else got up. Following the footsteps, I found my mother, Stan, Jimmy and Walter hugging Jodie tightly. My mom sobbing loudly, whispering something into Jodie's ear before rushing over to me. She gripped me as if I would never see her again, her tears wet against my cheek._

_"Be a good girl, do whatever Jodie tells you...and be brave." She choked into my ear, sobs turned into cries of distraught as Jodie dragged me towards a window. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to everyone else, still unsure as to what was happening. _

_Just before Jodie could bustle me out the opened window, my eyes caught the sight of the front door. Splinters of wood peeling off front he brute force of the banging, furniture placed in front do not allow anyone access inside, but the wood began to bend due to the pressure._

_And then swiftly I was pushed out the window, landing on the metal walkway outside. The night air freezing, seeing as I was only in my pyjamas. The city lights dazzling, the fear momentarily gone as the beauty memorised my young mind._

_"Zoey come on! Start climbing down." Jodie barked, the roughness in her voice something I had never heard before. But u did as she had asked, quickly walking down the steps, turning with the structure. The pressure of Jodie's presence behind me kept me moving forward, even when my legs began to tire from the constant downwards slope._

_Eventually we reached the ground, the darkened alleyway covered in white snow, the flakes showering us in more coldness. Jodie shrugged her jacket off, quickly wrapping it around my shoulders as we caught our breath. _

_Then we hear the gunshot, my eyes instantly looking up to the apartment window. And then, simultaneously two more are fired, and then a final one echoed throughout the building. Blood droplets splattered against the window, making me gasp as I pictured gruesome scenes of my mom's body with a bullet through her head. Jodie grabbed my hand, pulling me away as I'm paralysed, still looking up at the window._

_A man appeared, his silhouette terrifying in the darkness. My eyes got drawn to his hands, three long spikes sprouting from in between his knuckles. He sniffed the air, focused on me, eye-to-eye, before Jodie lumbered me out of his eyesight. We pelted down the street, never fault wring from the pace as we searched for an escape._

_Not long after, Jodie found a battered old pick-up truck. Letting go of my hand, she smashed the window with her padded elbow and quickly opened the door. The alarm never went off, as it should. I shivered, hoping that the cold wouldn't kill me as I had seen in films. Suddenly, a third presence surrounded me, the invisible person generating warmth through my body. It felt like a spirit trying to connect with me, but with kindness rather then vengefulness._

_"Got it! Zoey get inside now." Ignoring the third presence, I jumped into the passenger seat, Jodie rushing to the other side and sitting in the driver's seat. The pick-up didn't have a key in the ignition, Jodie didn't seem fazed, the whole turning and making the engine roar._

_Before I could even ask how, Jodie had already hit the acceleration and moved the car down the street. I gripped the seat, the sudden fast movement too extreme for my liking. As soon as I felt safe, I clipped the seatbelt on and sat in silence._

_Wondering...wondering why this was happening, and who that man was. He looked human, but those spikes were not, and it begged the question whether he was indeed human. The way he sniffed the air, reminded me of an animal searching for its prey, prowling through its habitat in search for a meal._

_Jodie never stopped, not until we were safely heading towards the border of the city. Judging by the reckless driving, she wanted to be out of the state all together, determination across her while body. I didn't like this Jodie, it terrified me, because it looked too much like soldier._

_Cautiously, I let my left hand uncoil, to reveal the necklace in my palm. I quickly slipped it on, feeling the metal slide against my fingers tips, the coldness strangely bringing calmness. Maybe I would never see my mom again, or Jimmy, or Stan, or Walter. Now, it was just me and Jodie against the world...and that made me realise, sitting in that passenger seat, that my childhood was officially over._

* * *

Memories of that night seem so vivid, like I am that eleven year old girl again. Those people had been from the CIA, that man, I'm unsure, still not knowing who he is. I never told anyone about him, my silence mainly being because I thought it would be best, his aura given from that night, made me believe he could find me no matter where I went.

But the CIA was back again, still making my life hell. If Wade is working with them, then this date could be him drawing me out, perfect for a sniper to shot me. All of this reminds me that no one in this messed up world can be trusted, because no one is as they seem.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, my tone depressive as I suddenly feel tired again. Phil and Maria share a look, them thinking I would be the one to decide what to do next. When Phil looks away, he grabs the folder and turns it in his fingers, eyes firmly fixed on the photo of Wade.

"That depends, what is it that you wish to do?" He speaks democratically, wanting to know what I'm thinking, mainly what I'm feeling about this information. I lean back, staring at the folder, silently forming and discarding ideas, searching for the best one.

"I need to find out what he knows, and what he wants from me. Only then can we determine whether he is a threat or not, good thing I'm giving him my number." I conclude, thinking this date could be the one time I can have the upper hand, Wade unknown of my findings. Phil seems confused at this, but Maria and I share a knowing nod, clearly she had been monitoring our interactions more then Phil. I like my privacy, but at least this means I don't have to explain.

All I can say, bring it on Wade Wilson!

* * *

When he had said _date_, I automatically thought of a loud bar with strippers dancing on poles. I wasn't expecting a cafe with sleek tables, ours being in a private corner by the window, across a bust street is Central Park. Honestly, he had picked quite well, but it didn't change the fact that he could be here to kill me.

I didn't get myself dolled up, a white shirt and blue sweater, skinny jeans clinging against my legs. I never wear make up, but found myself pulling my long hair down one side, just as a change. Wade hasn't done much either, a plain light green shirt hidden underneath a grey jacket, baggy pants that dragged along the floor.

He didn't do the whole pulling-my-chair-out crap, nor the awkward smiles, him just being the douchebag he was before but not so much that I don't have to hit him. He had ordered two beer bottles, me not usually drinking alcohol but I thought it would make a change.

"So, what would you like to tall about?" He asks, seeming quite out of place, as if he has never been on a date before in his life. This is a first for both of us, even if it is completely fake. I take a sip from the cold bottle, the condensation dripping down my hand, his eyes watching the movement intently.

"Oh, I thought we were just going to talk about you." I reply sarcastically, the alcohol already beginning to intoxicate my blood. He chuckles, taking a sip from his own bottle, both of us setting them down in unison.

"Not everything is about me, I want to know you better, since I've seen more of you." He replies, mentioning yesterday morning and the shower incident. The awkwardness is now gone, treating it as something that should not be spoken to anyone between us.

Having no idea as where to start, my eyes glance outside, the man made light glowing in the surrounding darkness. I try to avoid staying out late, the people and buildings alike extremely demeaning in the moonlight.

"I er, well, lets just say I've never really had a stable home." I start, corrupted honesty being the way I think will make him reveal what I want to know. He doesn't know what to do with this information, but strangely, he seems to empathise, his head nodding slowly.

"If it wasn't for the things that happened, I likely wouldn't be the person I am now." My hands move uncontrollably with my words, emphasising what I'm saying, true to every word. Waiting for his reply, I sip more of my beer, swallowing it in one gulp, the sensation of the drink seeping down my throat making me wince.

"Good things do come out of the bad, we're living proof." He finally speaks, a smirk stuck to his face as his eyes switch between me and the table. I chuckle, agreeing with his statement.

The cafe plays modern music as we dine, the liquid slowly disappearing from the bottles of beer and into our mouths as the night draws on. He orders some more, waving his hand at a barmaid, though her expression seems quite annoyed. She brings them to the table, slamming them on the table before turning on her heels.

"Stuck up much?" I mutter, following the barmaid's leave, the bottle at my lips. Wade's eyes follow my own, though his focuses more on her rear.

"Yeah, but she's got the body to make up for it." He whistles, me rolling my eyes at his immaturity. We share a few more conversations, between how I came to be his neighbour (missing out most of the details, mainly the Avengers) and his adventures around the world. He doesn't spill details on the missions, but describes the people and buildings he's seen. He never mentions the CIA, me hoping he would slip up at some point, though I doubted it since he had clearly had a lot of training.

After the conversations, the night draws on and he's not shown any signs of knowing anything about my past. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I watch him intently, his eyes mostly focused on the barmaid who actually flips the bird at him from behind back. Setting the bottle down, I twist the neck, the bottle skidding over the table.

"So, which governments have you worked for?" I side step slowly, his eyes quickly darting back to me, my voice reminding him of my presence.

"You know I can't tell you that." He chuckles, thinking I'm joking.

"Come on, one little detail." I persist, resulting to bashing my eyelashes at him. He doesn't immediately become suspicious, but there is a sense of tension as he tries to divulge away from the question.

"I would much rather talk about your job, you haven't said anything about your line of work." He puts me into a corner, however, I have a trick up my sleeve. I say trick, it's technically the top secret folder Phil had given to me, and I had pulled it out if the bag I had brought with me. I slowly slide it towards him, eyes like iron as he gulps the lump in his throat. I take a much needed sip from the beer bottle, thankful this is a quiet area of the cafe where we can speak in hushed arguments if necessary.

Wade opens the folder gingerly, his grimace as he skims through the information, refusing to look at me. I lick my lips, very much in agent mode now as I watch Wade squirm.

"Does the CIA ring any bells? Or maybe black sun, after all you were training during the incident." My tone is very accusing, Wade flinching as I mention black sun, me reading up on it since Jodie first told me about it.

"Zoey you have to believe me, this has nothing to do with me working with the CIA. In fact, I haven't even been near them for over three years." He tries to defend himself, but I'm already a step ahead of him, his slip up costing him dearly.

"So you're admitting you know my connection to the CIA, and incidentally my past afterwards." I speak icily, the beer bottle still turning in my fingers. I lean forward, Wade's face extremely fearful as to what my actions are.

"Who are you? And what do you want from me?" I hiss, the two simple questions sending him aback. He stutters as he tries to find words to counter the questions, coming up short, he places his hands on the table and entwined his fingers. He stays silent for quite awhile, staring at his hands as he memorises the words he is about to say.

"All I ever wanted, was to travel the world, exotic places. Meet new and exciting people...and then kill them. So I became a mercenary, I love what I do. I'm Wade Wilson, they call me the merc with a mouth." He finishes his little speech, me nodding my head mockingly.

"Nice nickname, suits you _perfectly_." The quip not something I had expected to say, but it does its job, Wade knowing he's been exposed.

"When I worked with the CIA, yeah, I heard about you and Jodie Holmes. I left, got a few assassination jobs here and there, came to New York, met you. Honestly, I was quite surprised, expecting this evil bitch ready the blow me into chunks. I don't know, maybe I saw there was more to you then the CIA's files, and I wasn't disappointed." He smiles at me, the conversation on a turning point that I can't control. Okay, I'm faltered by his words but it doesn't change the fact he blatantly lied to my face, always knowing about me.

"Why? You knew how dangerous I was, the price on my head, why didn't you kill?" I ask honestly, thinking this is just another get rich quick scheme, or as he said, he _loves _his job. He scoffs, disbelief on his face as he looks at my stern one.

"If I had wanted to kill you, do you really think I would be here, buying you drinks? There's probably a price on my head too, I don't see _you _trying to kill me." He counters, making me lean back into the chair, trying desperately to keep control of the situation.

"No, because I'm not like you, I don't get enjoyment out of killing." I hiss in a hushed pitch, making sure nobody else in the cafe can hear us. He tries to deny it with a shake of his head, a single hand with his palm facing upwards as he reasons with me.

"I don't get, I don't get enjoyment out of killing." He denies, his face no longer comedic but seriousness.

"Really? Because you look pretty jolly in those photographs." At this point I want to stand up and leave, but a force keeps me glued to the chair, hoping that he's close to cracking.

"Look, those are bad people." He points to the people in the background of the photos, spinning the folder around for me to see. I follow his finger, the people easily deciphered as Russian. "That's why I like what I do, because the good people get justice and the bad get what they deserve." He persists, but I am not yet convinced, remembering a time not too long ago when I thought as he does now.

"As soon you start killing, you become no better then them." I hastily stand up, the chair squeaking in protest. "If you don't have a death wish, I suggest you stay _far _away from me." I mutter at him, turning to leave but a quick hand grabs my wrist. The smoothness of his skin catching me off-guard, I turn to look at him with piercing eyes, his face one of empathy.

"You wanna know why I didn't tell the CIA? Because when I looked at you the first time we met, I could tell you had been abused, because I've been there too. My mom died when I was a kid, my dad beating me his way of dealing with her death. He was a military man, all orders and no questions, so it's not a surprise I went down the same path. Look, what I'm trying to say, I'm probably one of the only people that understands you, and this likely sounds way too cheesy, but maybe we were supposed to bump into each other." He doesn't sound convinced himself, nor does he sound like himself, however it does make me think. I flick his hand off my wrist, still standing up as I feel eyes watching us.

"Unless you want S.H.I.E.L.D on your ass, stay low for a while." I assume he knows about S.H.I.E.L.D, my presumptions being correct as he nods his head. "If you need a training partner, you know where I am. Thanks for the drinks." I add, his face shifting into shock as he realises that I've accepted his excuses. I'm still wary of him, but they always say keep your enemies closer. I walk away, not bothering to look back as I exit into the cold night, the orange streets lamps guiding the way.

* * *

**Curse you mind block! (shakes fist angrily) yeah this is quite short for that reason. Have to catch up on some other stories, hope you liked this chapter.**

**bye for now,**

**~gothgirlstrikesagain **


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